Lorien Legacies High School
by Anonymous-read
Summary: Exactly what it sounds like. My take on what the Lorien Legacies characters would be like if they were regular humans going through high school. Disclaimer: I don't own Lorien Legacies
1. Chapter 1

**Hey, decided to write a high school fanfic for Lorien Legacies. I only have the first chapter written so far, so please review and let me know if I should continue or not.**

 **btw, I made number Five a girl (Riley) because I couldn't find a way to work pittacus lore's Five into the story. I hope nobody minds :)**

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 **Marina**

My head snaps up at the sound of my alarm going off. Immediately, I groan and bury my face back in my pillow, too tired to even press the snooze button. I hear Ella rushing up and down the hallways, getting ready for her first day of grade eight. I don't even know how early she got up, but judging by the sounds of her quick footsteps, it's been awhile. As I hear the continued screams of my alarm, I remember that it's also my first day of school. Grade twelve. With a sigh, I roll over in my bed and squint at the ceiling, my eyes still not adjusted to the light of the morning sun streaming into the room. I follow the spinning of the fan blade with my eyes, regretting my decision to turn it on last night. It's going to be freezing when I get out from under the covers.

"Marina!" I hear Mom's voice and I cringe at how cranky she sounds, "Do us all a favour and turn that alarm off sometime this century!"

At once, I shoot up into a sitting position on my bed, Mom's harsh tone the only motivation I need to cut my sleeping time short. The sudden movement makes dark spots appear at the edges of my vision, and a dizzy feeling shoots through me. Still, I reach my arm out until I find the alarm on my bedside table, desperately feeling for the power button before her mood gets worse. I sigh in relief when I hear the high pitched siren shut off with a satisfying click.

"Sorry!" I call out. She doesn't respond, probably already gone back to sleep.

She's been like this since Dad died almost two years ago. Always cranky. She used to be so happy, always smiling no matter the situation we were in. Even when Dad was in the hospital, she had been hopeful, always staying positive for the benefit of everyone. Of course, positivity doesn't cure cancer. After his death, Ella and I grieved, mourned, did whatever people do when family members die. Mom did too, but she was never the same. She doesn't ask us about our day anymore, she doesn't even seem to care about what we do. After a while, I took over her roll, struggling between making sure she doesn't go too far off the rails, and looking out for Ella.

I shake the thoughts off and with a surge of effort, I rip the covers off me and drape my feet over the side of the bed. I yawn, then just sit there for a moment, eyes half closed and staring at the grey wall opposite to me. It's cold in the room, just like I thought it would be. After a moment, I force myself up onto my feet, quickly getting dressed, then walking towards the door. I pull it open, a little startled to see a blur of auburn hair fly by the open doorway. I'm too tired to jump though, managing only to raise my eyebrows in surprise while I lean forward and peer down the hallway, where Ella is entering the bathroom. Rolling my eyes, I slowly walk the way she went. I hope that she'll soon realize that nobody cares what you wear, or how you look. Although I can't be too critical, it took me a few years to grow out of it myself.

"Morning, El." I greet her as I come in, reaching for my hairbrush just as she drops her own down next to it.

"Yup." She replies absentmindedly.

What? Since when is 'yup' a viable response to 'good morning'? I give her a confused look and open my mouth to respond, but she's already scampering out of bathroom again. I whip my head around just in time to see her turn the corner, and I let out a huff of annoyance. She needs to calm down.

I continue to brush my hair and teeth, finding entertainment in watching Ella as she moves around in fast motion, sometimes making more short appearances in the bathroom before scurrying out again. When I'm done, I step out into the hall, getting out of the way as Mom trudges past me, looking almost zombie-like.

"Good morning." I say lightly. She only grunts in response, disappearing into the bathroom. I shake my head as I continue my journey to the stairs. Would it kill anybody in this family to give me a proper response?

When I get to the stairs I pause for a moment, briefly weighing the idea of throwing myself down them against going to school. Sighing in defeat, I grab the rail and go down the stairs the safe way. Once I'm down, I head into the kitchen and throw a piece of bread in the toaster. I open the cupboard to get a plate, but as I do, I notice the time on the stove clock. Riley said that she'd be here to pick me up at quarter to eight. Well, it's eight now so that throws our plan off a little.

I slam the cupboard door and sprint back upstairs to grab a sweater. I must have stayed in bed longer than I thought. I run past Ella on my way to my room, and she gives me a confused look, not used to seeing me rushing around in the mornings.

"Late." I explain shortly.

I disappear into my bedroom and rip a random sweater out of the closet, quickly rushing back out and flying down the stairs in record time. I grab my phone off the counter, a little shocked to see that there's no texts from Riley telling me to hurry up. Before I have a chance to think about it, my breakfast pops up from the toaster.

Deciding that I don't have time to eat it, I shove my bag over my shoulder and head for the door. "There's some toast down here for anyone who wants it!" I call up.

"Alright, thanks Marina!" Ella shouts back at me.

Satisfied that Ella's breakfast has been taken care of, I tell her to have a good day, shooting out through the door before I can hear her response. I look around, breathing a little heavy from all the rushing around, only to find that Riley isn't even here. Confused, I pull out my cell phone, checking the time again to make sure I saw right. Even through my panic, I'm proud of myself when I see that only a minute has gone by since I last checked. Although, almost immediately, the feeling is replaced with concern. Out of all the years I've known her, Riley has rarely been late for anything. I walk up to the side of the road and look both ways, an uneasy feeling settling in my stomach when I don't see her vehicle. I wait for another couple of minutes but still, nothing. I start to walk back down the driveway and pull out my phone, dialling her number, and breathing out a relieved sigh when she answers on the third ring.

"Yeah, I know, I know." She says, her voice a mix of panic and irritation, "I'm like, two seconds away."

"Okay good, I was starting to think you... slept in or something." I say, deciding not to tell her that I was actually thinking the worst. Both her and Maren make fun of my worrying, but it's just the way I've been since I started looking after Ella.

"No, I was actually up earlier this morning." She reassures me, and I roll my eyes at the pride in her voice, knowing that she usually waits until the last second to get up. "Anyway, I'm here n-" she ends the call before she can finish her sentence, and I watch as her burgundy van backs into the driveway.

She stops the car and I jog the few steps it takes to get over there. I hurriedly pull on the passenger side door, but it's locked. I raise my eyebrows at Riley and she says something that looks like a curse as she reaches over from the drivers seat and pulls up the locking mechanism, successfully letting me in.

I throw my bag in the back, "Good morning." I say as I climb in the passenger seat.

"Good morning, Marina." She replies lightly, a smile replacing the worried expression on her face. That's what I like about Riley, no matter what situation she's in, she can always find a smile to put on her face. Although, this one only lasts for a second, and before I can say anything else she drives forward, the force pushing me against the seat back.

She stops at the end of the driveway and I take the opportunity to do up my seatbelt before she tells me to, she'll never drive away if someone's seatbelt isn't done up. Honestly, she's actually a very safe driver, the ride is just a little unpleasant to say the least. But we agreed that we would car pool, even if it means that the journey won't be the most comfortable. I look up the road and sigh as I notice a steady stream of cars coming from each side. Riley has noticed as well and bangs her hands on the steering wheel in annoyance.

"Come on people, give me a break." She mutters leaning forward to look both ways.

All of a sudden, her face goes calm, and I recognize the look. It's the look she gets when she's going to do something she probably shouldn't. I follow her gaze to the line of cars on the left side of the road, to see that there is a small gap between two cars, maybe big enough to get her van out. I look on the other side of the road and see the same thing. It looks like the two breaks will meet right here, but still, it hardly looks like a wide enough margin.

"Riley, no." I warn, shooting her look. She doesn't say anything, just presses her lips tighter together, a conflicted expression crossing her features as her eyes continue to dart back and forth between the two spaces.

"You won't be able to make it, there's not enough space." I try. This time she sighs, turning her head to look at me apologetically.

"Alright," she says, and for a second I think I've won, my stomach drops when she adds, "hold on."

As the two breaks meet, she slams her foot on the gas. I take her advice and grip onto the door as she jerks the steering wheel hard to the left. The force of the turn pushes me up against the window, my wide eyed expression probably hilarious to the other drivers on the road. I definitely hear the vans tires screech as Riley finally drifts us to the other lane, leaving skid marks on the pavement. One of the other cars honks their horn but other than that, we seem to be in the clear.

We're both quiet for a moment, the only thing breaking the silence is the sound of the van rolling over the pavement and my our breathing, heavy with waning panic. Finally, I turn to Riley, only to find her staring straight ahead, purposely avoiding eye contact, her eyes wide. She stays silent for a second, almost like she's afraid to say anything.

"Okay, look at this way." She finally says, "Yes, maybe it was a little dangerous, but maybe it was worth it." She nods like she's satisfied with her argument. I'm not.

"Oh yeah? Really?" I answer, my tone harsher than I meant for it to be, although, I can't find it in me to care right now, "It was worth maybe getting us killed?" I accuse her, silently taking back what I said about her being a safe driver.

At this, she rolls her eyes, now smiling a little, probably finding my panic amusing, "Really, Marina? Killed? That's a little extreme." She says arching an eyebrow, "At most we would have been injured."

"Oh wow, thanks. That just makes me feel a million times better." I reply flatly, crossing my arms over my chest defensively. She raises her eyebrows and laughs in surprised amusement at my tone.

I give her a tired look, but I'm finding it hard not to smile myself as my anger ebbs away. She's just one of those people that you can't stay mad at, her warm brown eyes always looking innocent no matter what she's done. In times like this, it's really annoying, and eventually, a reluctant smile makes its way into my face. I shake my head at her as she looks at me, still chuckling.

"You should have seen your face." She says, "It was the image pure terror." I roll my eyes but can't help laughing anyway, all of my anger now gone.

"Okay whatever." I say after minute, "We're still late, so it didn't matter anyway." I reason, nodding to the clock on the dash where it now reads, 8:06.

"Yeah, Maren's gonna be pissed." She admits, and I can see her face slowly take on the worried expression she was wearing when she picked me up, "She's already called twice." She adds with a short laugh.

"Well, school does start at 8:15." I point out, she wrinkles her nose at me and I smile. Maren's house isn't that far from mine anyway, and it's only five minutes away from the school, so that gives me a little hope that we may get there on time. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice the speedometer slowly rising but I refrain from saying anything, it couldn't exactly hurt the situation.

When we get to Maren's house, she's already standing outside, her book bag slung over her shoulder. She looks annoyed and runs up to the van before we even get all the way into the driveway.

"Sorry!" Riley apologizes as soon as Maren slides the door open. Maren throws her school bag into the back seat and with a grunt, climbs in after, sliding the door shut.

"What took you so long!" She replies, not seeming to accept Riley's apology just yet.

"Steph wanted breakfast." Riley responds, pulling out of the driveway with much less trouble then she had with mine.

Stephanie is Riley's older sister and legal guardian, since their parents died when Riley was eleven. Stephanie had been eighteen and grudgingly took on the responsibility, but anyone with eyes can see that Riley does everything for the both of them, even has a part-time job at a convenience store to help pay the bills.

"What did she want that took twenty minutes?" Maren's grumbles, probably rolling her eyes.

Riley grimaces, knowing that Maren won't accept any excuse, "Boiled eggs." She replies quietly.

"Really?" Maren exclaims, "Actually, you know what? Never mind, she probably can't even boil water, I should have known that putting a couple eggs in a pot would be beyond her comprehension level." Riley just shakes her head and laughs. She doesn't like insulting her sister, but has gotten past the point of caring when Maren does it.

"Anyway, if you were going to be late you could have at least picked us up in cooler car." She continues with a huff, making her displeasure known.

"Oh yeah?" Riley challenges, raising her eyebrows at her in the mirror, "I'll have you know, that ol' Mavis here just drifted across a whole lane of traffic up by Marina's house." Yes, she named her van Mavis.

Maren's snorts, obviously not believing her, "It's true." I interject.

"Wait. Really?" Maren laughs, and Riley nods.

"Don't be too impressed. She almost killed us in the process." I say, shooting Riley a glare. She doesn't seem to mind and just shrugs.

"Meh, agree to disagree." She replies.

"Personally, I don't get what you're complaining about." Maren says as she leans forward from the back seat, "That sounds awesome."

"Right?" Riley responds, "See Mar, I was actually doing you a favour. A little healthy adrenaline rush to wake you up."

"It was terrifying." I tell Maren, ignoring Riley's statement. Riley just laughs from the drivers seat, still finding my terror amusing. All of a sudden, Maren groans.

"You know what's more terrifying? I have math first." She says and I grimace at the thought of having to sit through fifty minutes of math first thing in the morning. Riley however, looks back at Maren with a grin.

"Oh, me too!" She says a little too enthusiastically. Maren and I roll our eyes at her, both of us at a loss to why she likes math. She catches the look, but instead of being offended, she grins, waggling her eyebrows at Maren, "We can be study buddies!" She suggests with fake hopefulness.

I laugh while Maren groans, "You're retarded." She says.

"Ah, yeah I know." Riley responds, her smile turning into a frown of mock sadness. Maren and I laugh.

It might be a decent year yet.

 **John**

"I told you we were gonna be late." I grumble to Stanley as we make our way to math. I hate math, being Kate for the class isn't going to hell matters though.

Nobody else is around as we walk down the hall at a quick pace, of course. Nobody is late for class on the first day except us. Well, us and a couple of girls coming up from the opposite direction, the two appear to be arguing about something. When I see a head of raven hair, I immediately recognize one of them as Maren Elizabeth. Almost everyone in the school knows her, being the star player of almost every sport tends to make you popular. Still, she sticks to a group of only a few friends and everyone else either lies in the mass of people desperate for her friendship, or the other half who are her enemies, there's no in-between really. I recognize the other girl as the goalie for the girls hockey team two years straight. I think her name is Riley Pierce. She doesn't really stand out next to Maren though, I guess no one does.

"C'mon man," Stanley interrupts my thoughts, "it's the first day, nobody cares if your late on the first day. We can just say we got lost or something."

I roll my eyes, turning away from the girls to give him an exasperated look, "This is our third year in this school, how could we get lost?"

He just shrugs, "I don't know, maybe we're dumb." He says.

"Well one of us is." I reply under my breath, he still hears me and laughs, not even offended.

"Dude, its senior year! You've got to relax." He says, shoving me a little. He wears such an easy grin, he's not even worried.

"Whatever." I sigh.

We all get to the door of Mr. Collins' classroom at the same time, and I gesture for Stanley to stop to let the girls in first. Riley smiles at us in thanks, but Maren just brushes past us, not even slowing down and her face much less friendly than her friend's.

"Twenty minutes to boil eggs." She mutters to Riley, looking back at her as she enters the classroom. Riley sighs, looking like a kid being lectured by a parent.

"Oh my god, can you shut up about the freaking eggs?" She whispers back, quickly following Maren into the classroom. I shoot Stanley a confused look.

He shrugs, "Chicks, man." He says smirking. I roll my eyes at him for what feels like hundredth time today, and go into the classroom.

Mr. Collins stands at his desk, giving Stanley and I a disapproving glare as he waves to two empty seats at the front of the classroom, gesturing for us to sit down. I shoot him what I hope is an apologetic look. Stanley however, just smirks as he takes his seat, laying his books down on the desk, stretching his legs out and crossing his arms to achieve the aura of smug superiority. I lay my own books down on the desk next to his and take a seat as Mr. Collins hardens his glare at Stanley. Finally, he sighs and walks over to the white board, where he has his name written across the surface. He clasps his hands in front of him and looks over the class with a smile I can tell is fake.

"Now that everyone is here we can get started." He says, "For those of you who don't know me, my name is Mr. Collins. Today we will be starting unit one, relations and functions."

He drones on, his monotone voice making it easy to want to tune him out. I find it hard to pay attention, struggling between trying to tune out Stanley's chatter and writing down the notes on the board. Apparently Mr. Collins is also annoyed with Stanley's comments, turning around multiple times to shoot a series of withering glares in our direction. Of course, this only stops Stanley for a few seconds, immediately going back to huffing and complaining the moment Mr. Collins turns back around. After each warning, I can tell our teacher's patience is growing thinner and thinner, and after a particularly loud comment from Stanley he stops. He takes a deep breath and turns around.

"Mr. Worthington." He says, through gritted teeth. I don't know why he chooses to call his students by their last names. "Is there something you would like to share with the class?"

Stanley looks up like he never noticed he was there in the first place, "Not particularly, no." He says, "Do you have something you would like to share with the class, Mr. Collins?" His face adopts a look of fake sympathy and I can hear some of our class mates snicker. Mr. Collins however, just sighs, now looking more tired than irritated.

"Mr. Worthington, why do you continue to find trouble in my classroom?" He asks and Stanley shrugs.

"If it's any consolation sir, your classroom isn't the only one in which I 'find trouble'." He replies.

Mr. Collins sighs sadly, looking defeated. I almost feel sorry for the guy. Although instead of responding to Stanley's retort, he looks around the classroom. His eyes land on the other end of the room, and I turn around to see Maren and Riley sitting in the line of his gaze.

"Miss Pierce." He says, and Riley who had been writing something in her notebook looks up, looking a little startled to be called on.

"Um, yeah?"

"Have you and Mr. Worthington ever been acquainted?" He asks. Her eyebrows pinch together in confusion at the question and she casts a quick glance in our direction.

"Uh, no I don't think so." She answers.

Mr. Collins smiles a little, "Perfect." He says, "Mr. Smith, please switch seats with Miss Pierce." I look back to him, startled for a moment, but quickly grab my books. Riley does the same and beside me, the smirk has been completely wiped off Stan's face.

"Wait, why? What would that even solve?" He protests. Mr. Collins looks at him calmly, looking pleased with the reaction.

"Maybe if You're seated next to somebody you don't know, it will discourage you from distracting the the class with your chatter." He replies, and Stanley snorts.

"You're the only one who had a problem with it." He mutters, rolling his eyes. I stifle a smile at his grumbling, actually a little happy to be out of his talking range.

The class is mostly silent as both Riley and I get up with our things. As I pass, I shoot her an apologetic smile, feeling a bad for leaving her with Stanley. I feel a little better after she smiles back, and take my seat next to Maren, who looks more than a little angry that she got separated from her friend. I try to give her a smile, but she doesn't look at me, instead starring daggers at Mr. Collins and Stanley. I guess I should just be happy she isn't looking at me like that.

After we get settled, Mr. Collins sighs happily, "I'm sure you two will get along just fine." He says to Stanley and Riley, "You were both late, so you already have that much in common."

He turns around and starts teaching the lesson once more. I don't hear any talking from Stanley, or anyone else for that matter, I guess everyone got the message. Mr. Collins stops teaching when there's about fifteen minutes left to class, handing each person a worksheet. I glance over at Stanley and have to fight an smirk when I see him just sitting there, glaring at the sheet of paper like it ran over his dog or something. I take a look at Maren and notice the same look on her face, although she's actually doing the questions.

I decide to get to work on my own sheet, some of the questions are a little tricky but I manage to get through them, surprising myself with how much I retained. I stop halfway through when I notice Maren's pencil stop moving. When I look over, her eyebrows are scrunched together in confusion as she stares down one of the questions. Before I can ask if she needs help, she notices me looking and turns to me.

"Can I help you with something?" She asks me, sounding irritated. I feel my face heat up at being caught staring and I struggle to form a response.

"Um...". Not really my best start, "I was actually going to ask you if you needed help." I explain and she raises an eyebrow, "With the questions." I add quickly.

Maren rolls her eyes, "I think I can handle a few math questions, thanks." She says, a finality in her tone that tells me to drop the subject.

"Well I'm not too bad at this," I continue anyway, "and you looked like you were struggling so I-"

"Yeah, well I'm good." She cuts me off, turning back to her work and I sigh.

"It's okay to need help." I mutter, turning back to my own work. This time it's Maren that breaks the silence.

"Oh, excuse me if I don't want help from a guy that claims he's 'not too bad at this'." She retorts, raising her eyebrows at me. Even with the look she fixing me with, I can't help but smile as she throws my words back at me.

"Okay, maybe I could have phrased that differently." I admit, "But seriously, would you rather get help from me, or..." I gesture towards Mr. Collins, raising my eyebrows at her. She looks past me to where our teacher is absentmindedly chewing on a pen, his eyes glassy as he stares off in space.

"Yeah, that doesn't look very confidence inspiring if you ask me." I say grimacing. I look back at Maren, she's glaring at me. Although, it might just be me, but she almost looks amused.

"Fine." She says after a minute and I grin as she grudgingly slides her sheet over, "Number twelve." She instructs and I try not to let my surprise show, I'm only at number nine on my own sheet.

I take the piece of paper and look down at the equation, chewing my bottom lip as my brain works. I desperately try to latch onto all of the math I've done in my years of schooling, but I can't make sense if it. After a few seconds of looking at it I even tilt my head a little, as if seeing the question from a different angle would help. It doesn't. I'm drawing a blank. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly through pursed lips, scratching my head.

"Do you need some help?" Maren asks me tauntingly. I turn the meet her grey eyes, wide with mock sympathy. She's shockingly beautiful, I realize, especially when she's not glaring at me. I try to look serious, but it's hard when I see Maren trying to suppress a smirk.

"I got it." I tell her, suddenly finding it a lot harder to form a sentence. I look back down at the question in hope an answer will pop into my head.

"It doesn't look like you have it."

I shake my head, "I'm close to getting the answer, I can feel it." I reassure her, tapping my pencil on the desk absentmindedly, "Any minute now..."

"You know, it's okay to need help." Maren says after a second, echoing my earlier words. I shoot a glare at her, but it rises into a smile when I see her smirk.

"It's not nice to mock people." I chide. She grins and my smile falls, instead transforming into a look of awe. I knew she was beautiful before, but when she smiles, like a real smile. Wow.

"I'm not a nice person." She retorts. When I don't say anything she waves a hand over my face, "Hello? You in there?"

Realizing I've been staring for too long, I quickly advert my eyes, pretending to examine the question again as I feel my face heat up, "Yeah, I... it's just, I think I had a breakthrough with the problem." I lie.

"Really?" She asks. She starts to lean over but the bell rings, saving me. Maren shrugs and takes the sheet off my desk, "Oh well, I guess we'll never know."

"I guess not." I reply, grabbing my own sheet and stuffing it in my binder. She gets up from her desk and starts to walk towards the door, "Wait a second." I say, stopping her.

She turns around, her eyebrows raised expectantly, "John." I tell her after a second, "My name, it's John." I explain further.

"Maren." She replies with a nod.

"Yeah, I know." I say automatically, then start to backtrack as I realize what I said, "I mean, everyone knows you, I guess." Oh God, that sounds worse, "You play a lot of sports so..." I scratch the back of my neck, inwardly cringing at the sentence.

I look to her, relieved to see that she doesn't look weirded out or anything, an amused smile tugging at the corner of her lips, "See ya, John." She says.

She walks out, leaving me with a strangely happy feeling. Maybe math won't be so bad this year

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 **Please review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for reviewing! I hope you like the chapter :)**

* * *

 **Maren**

I groan loudly as someone bumps into me for the millionth time today. She's a freshman, a schedule in one hand and her phone in the other, probably texting a friend to see where her next class is. She looks up from her schedule and quickly mutters an apology, looking panicked. I just sigh and wave her off, sick of the crowded hallways and people rushing around.

"I hate the freshman this year." I complain to Marina who's walking behind me.

"Cut them some slack, it's only been two days." She tries to reason.

"Exactly, it's been two days." I respond, "That's more than enough time for them to get their shit together." I continue as I reach my locker. Marina sighs, probably tired of listening to me complain, I actually feel sorry for her. It's a good thing it's last period.

"We can't be too judgmental, that was us three years ago." She says and I snort as I enter my locker combination. The locker door swings open and I drop my books inside, looking at my schedule to see what I have next. History. This day just keeps getting better and better.

"We weren't this bad." I say, taking a look around in disgust at all of the new students. I reach for my history textbook just as someone bumps into me from behind. I spin around, my face set in a hard glare, but whoever did it is already lost in the crowd.

"I swear to God, if I get bumped anymore today, someone's gonna get throat punched. And it's not going to be pretty." I threaten, turning back around to try again for my book.

"Hey." I turn to see Riley leaning on the locker next to mine, a friendly smile on her face. When she sees my glare, it fades a little, and she looks around me at Marina who's stifling her own grin.

"Be careful, you might get punched." Marina warns, and understanding dawns on Riley's face.

"Freshman."

Marina nods and Riley lets out a light laugh, "You know, you're the reason they're scared." She says.

"Good." I reply. She shakes her head disapprovingly and turns to look at the mass of people behind me.

"Aw, that's a sin. Look at them all." She gestures around us, "Scared, confused, alone in the world. All they need is an ounce of sympathy." She sighs sadly, "Poor little friggers."

Marina laughs, and despite myself, I let out a small smile, "See Maren? You have to give them sympathy, not heart attacks." She says wisely. History book in hand, I close my locker, turning to Marina with an arched eyebrow.

"Yeah, I'll give them sympathy when they finally realize that the room numbers are in order." I say, "What class do you have now anyway?" I ask her, changing the subject.

"French." She replies, with a shrug. I look at Riley.

"Bio. And I see you have history." She says with a nod towards my book, "Fun." She adds dryly as we cut back into the crowded hallway.

"Uh huh." I agree, "Wanna switch?" I joke.

Riley snorts, "Yeah, I'm sure nobody would notice, since we look so much alike and all." She says sarcastically, obviously referring to her light brown hair and eyes compared to my dark locks.

"Well, you could always switch with me." Marina interjects, "I'm sure nobody would notice as long as you kept your head down."

It's true, Marina and Riley do look a little alike. Riley's hair is only a shade lighter than Marina's, and her skin only a little less dark, and if she sat in the back of the class, it wouldn't be a stretch to mix them up. Still, Riley is quite a few inches shorter than Marina, and it would really go against my personality if I didn't bring it up.

"Yeah, it might work if you grew a foot taller." I quip. Marina bursts out laughing and Riley rolls her eyes, but she's grinning.

"Well, guess who's not switching classes with you this period?" She says smugly, I laugh, "And as for you, Marina, while French class sounds tempting, I think I'd rather get shot in the face, thanks." She continues lightly and Marina laughs.

"Yeah I can't blame you there." She admits, "Speaking of which, this is me." She nods to a door on the side of the hall that must be her French room, "See you guys after." With that, she disappears into her class.

Riley and I continue to swim through the crowds until I get to my history class. She wishes me luck and moves on to go to her own lesson. I swear I can feel my spirits dampen as I walk through the doorway. It's like this room alone just sucks the life out of everything. Even my teacher, Mr. Perry, looks half dead, sitting at his desk and just staring at his computer with blank eyes. The only thing that makes me feel the least bit better is the friendly smile Sam gives me as I sit down.

Despite meeting Sam in the beginning of last year, I don't really know him that well. He had been in my physics class last year and I'm not sure I would have passed if it wasn't for his help. Still, our friendship is barely a friendship. We're more like acquaintances who just talk to each other because we're bored. I'm okay with that. I don't need a lot of people to talk to anyway. I have Marina and Riley, I know they're my real friends, in fact, I don't think I can remember a time when the three of us weren't friends. Unlike most other people, I don't have a desire to hang out with a huge group of people, I have all the friends I need, even if they're not as numerous.

History drags on. My eyes constantly darting back to the clock, the seconds almost seeming to tick backwards. Without realizing it, I notice that I'm subconsciously bouncing my leg. Sam raises an eyebrow at me.

"Are you okay? In rush to get somewhere?" He asks.

"There's hockey tryouts after school." I explain, "I just need to get out of here."

He nods understandingly, "I see. Planning on being captain again this year?" I shrug, not really wanting to jinx anything.

"I hope so." I say. Even though I've been captain for the past two years, it doesn't mean I'm going to be cocky and just assume I'll get the spot again.

"You will." He assures me, and despite myself, I smile.

"Yeah. Thanks, I guess." I respond. Sam smiles at me, seeming satisfied with this exchange, and starts taking notes again. Instead of doing the same, I resign myself to leaning back in my chair and watching the minutes tick by once again.

When there's only five minutes left to class, I start to pack up slowly, hoping Mr. Perry doesn't notice and call me out. He sees me, but instead of saying anything, he just turns his blank eyes up to the clock.

"You can all pack up. Class is dismissed." He says with a shrug, probably just wanting to get us all out his hair. I'm fine with that.

"But the bell hasn't even gone off." Same pipes up beside me. I shoot him a look, already standing up with my books in my arms, ready to leave. He doesn't see me, "Won't we get in trouble?" He continues.

Mr. Perry takes a breath and takes a quick look out the door, "There are thirty people in this classroom and one hall monitor." He says, then waits a second, "He can't catch you all."

As if accepting this as a battle cry, half the class immediately gets up from their seats and rushes towards the door in a huge group. I don't join them, yet. I think of this in war terms. This group is the front line, the most likely to get shot. Or in this case, detention. Well, detention isn't an option for me today, being team captain is not an option if I show up late to the first tryout. I stay put.

I wait until a single person gets up and leaves after the initial mass of people, then I go. I give Sam a quick goodbye, and follow the person out. Up ahead, I can see the hall monitor looking panicked, his eyes wide as he sees a mob of about seventeen people coming his way. Poor kid, I don't even know why our school has a hall monitor. Surely this guy has something more important to do than bust kids getting out of class early. When the mass reaches him, I can hear him calling out for kids to stop, but of course, nobody listens, everybody hellbent on leaving. I see a couple of kids get stopped, but other than that, the rest of us get by without a hitch, the hall monitor too occupied to get to all of us. Looking back, the war strategy might have been a little over the top, a bunch of people blatantly ignoring a panicked kid in the middle of the hallway hardly seems like a battle. Oh well, it worked.

I rush to my locker and grab my book bag, hustling out through the school doors just as the bell rings. I make my way to my car, Riley and I's hockey equipment already in the back. Almost immediately after I get in, Riley jumps in the passenger seat, right on time, as usual.

"Remember, don't get too many shots in. You'll make me look bad." She jokes. She's trying out for the goalie position, she's been playing since she was five though, so I don't think she has anything to worry about.

"I make no promises." I tell her, and she laughs. After another minute, I see Marina come through the crowd, finding my car quickly.

"Hey." She greets us as she opens the door. She shoves her book bag in the back seat, quickly climbing in after.

"Hey. Oh and I forgot to ask you earlier, are you coming to the rink or do you want me to drop you home?" I ask her, pulling out if the parking space.

"Hmm... I guess I'll come." She replies after a second, "You know, for moral support reasons." I turn left at the intersection.

"Perfect," Riley grins, "you can be our personal cheerleader." Marina snorts, and I roll my eyes smiling.

It only takes about five minutes for us to get to the rink and since we're one of the first people here, I find a parking spot easily, backing into one just outside the entrance. I pop the trunk and we all step out, Riley and I going around the back to get our hockey bags as Marina starts to walk towards the door. Riley's bag is a lot bigger than mine, since goalies require a lot more equipment, but she carries it with practiced ease. I slam the trunk and walk with Riley towards the entrance where Marina is now holding the door open for us.

"Did you lock the door?" She reminds me as I walk past. I sigh, although thankful she's here to remind me of things I should remember. I haul the keys out of my pocket and lock the doors.

I hand her the keys to hold on to while I'm playing, noticing that there's no sign of smugness on her face whatsoever as she takes them from me. I know I'm lucky to have a friend a friend like her. She just a genuinely good human being.

"What would we do without you?" I say sarcastically, although being serious at the same time.

"I ask myself that everyday." Riley sighs from ahead of us. Marina just laughs and shakes her head.

"I'm sure you both would get on just fine." She says humbly, "Anyway, I'm gonna go get a spot." She starts towards the stands, her book bag on her shoulder which I know holds her sketch book.

I turn away from her, to go into the change rooms, more than a little nervous about tryouts. My whole plan for this year was to be captain of the hockey team, and get a scholarship. Although I know that I could get a scholarship without being captain, I would really like to be, especially since it's senior year. I see the other girls arriving for tryouts, I know it's going to be tough competition, and despite the earlier reassurance from Sam, I know that he isn't really a credible source of information when it comes to sports. I stop for a second to take a breath, the familiar scent of the arena calming my nerves a little.

Riley must notice I'm not following her because she turns around, a confused look on her face. I quickly plaster on a confident smile and make my way over to her. She's not fooled though, I can see the concern in her face. She puts a hand on my shoulder.

"You're gonna do great, Maren." She tells me earnestly. She squeezes my shoulder once, then lets go, not wanting to make a big deal over it. We kind of have that in common.

The moment is brief, but it's also comforting. I'm not really sure why though. I let a real smile out this time, walking confidently into the change room. I'm ready.

 **Marina**

I can feel the cold air of the arena seeping through my clothes and when I breath out, I can see my breath turn into fog in front of my face. I have a hoodie on, but it's not really helping against the frigid air. I don't mind though. I've always liked the cold. The only sound in the stadium is the quiet murmuring of the few people in the stands, and the steady rumble of the zamboni as it lazily makes it way up and down the ice, preparing for the coming tryouts. It's quite peaceful really, the cold air somehow making the arena even more serene. I lean down, opening my bag and pulling my sketch book out before putting my feet up on the seat in front of me. It's why I chose to sit in the back, so I could sketch without worrying about the people behind me looking. Of course, I didn't actually come here to watch tryouts. Looking at thirty people as they skate laps around a rink isn't really my idea of a good time, even if two of them are my best friends. I came here to sit in the desolate, raw air, and draw.

I put my pencil to the paper, not really sure of what to draw, yet, having the desire to sketch something. As if it has a mind of it's own, my hand starts to move the pencil. I still don't know what I'm drawing, I just go with it. My random strokes of lead soon form into a tranquil grassy field with a pond in the background. Trees leading up to towering snow capped mountains are reflected on the surface of the water. Eventually my hand gets cold and I put the pencil down, curling my fingers into my palm to warm them. I look down at the page, tilting my head as I inspect the finished product. Hm, not bad.

I look up from the paper, a bit startled to see the tryouts in full swing. The girls have formed lines on both sides of the ice, taking turns passing one another the puck, then shooting it at the goal. I can tell by the goalie pads that Riley is in net, and she's doing a damn good job too, blocking almost every single one of the shots. My eyes are drawn back to centre ice where one of the players gracefully slides up to the net to take a shot. By the fluent way she skates and handles the puck, I can tell it's Maren. I see Riley ready herself for the shot. When Maren get up to the net, she fakes left then shoots right, landing the shot. I smile a little. She's definitely going to be captain.

I take a deep breath in through my nose, the smell of the arena bringing back memories of when I skated here. It was a while ago, before my dad died. I hadn't played hockey though, I found out from a young age that contact sports weren't for me. I used to figure skate, and I was good. I was actually qualifying for nationals when he died, I haven't been on the ice since. It didn't feel right since he was the one to introduce me to it in the first place. I don't think I would be able to go back out when he's not in the stands to cheer me on.

"Woah, that's really good." I jump at the closeness of the voice, snapping my gaze towards the seat next to me.

The voice belongs to a guy. A very attractive guy at that. I recognize him immediately from my French class. Joseph Reyes. His mouth is open in an awed look, his teeth white against his dark skin. His dark curls stick out from under a wool hat and he looks at my drawing with wide eyes. Wait, his eyes, a beautiful emerald green warm colour. Woah is right. How could I have been so wrapped up in my thoughts that I didn't notice him sit down next to me?

"Sorry." He apologizes, probably for causing me to jump ten feet out of my chair, "It's just, that drawing is amazing." My eyes widen as I remember the page on my lap, and I hurriedly slam the book shut.

"Uh, yeah thanks." I stutter. I feel my face heat up and quickly lean down, stuffing the book back in my bag to hide my blush.

"Oh sorry." He says again, sounding a little disappointed, "I didn't know I was interrupting anything."

"No. No it's fine." I reply quickly, shaking my head, not wanting him to feel bad, "You didn't- you weren't interrupting anything, I just didn't realize you were there."

"Yeah that's my fault. I should have realized, if someone is sitting in the corner alone they probably don't want to be talked to." He says, shaking his head, "But I'm an idiot so..." He trails off and despite myself, I laugh.

"I'm sure you're not an idiot." I mumble stupidly, he grins.

"I don't know. I'm pretty sure giving someone a heart attack isn't in the criteria for a good first impression." He says with an oddly cheerful looking shrug. I raise my eyebrows at him, amused at his happy attitude, "Is it okay if I stay here?" He asks after a second.

"Yeah, of course." I respond quickly, self-consciously tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

"Cool." He says, happily putting his feet up on the seat in front of him, "So, are you here just to draw? Because I can see that getting a bit cold." He asks, raising a dark eyebrow at me.

"No, my friends are here for hockey tryouts and I just decided to come along." I answer, shrugging.

"Me too!" He exclaims, his weird excitement making me smile, "Well, for the guys hockey tryouts, after this one." He explains.

"Oh, you don't play hockey?" I ask and Joseph laughs.

"You've got to be able to skate to play hockey."

I find that really shocking for some reason. Maybe it's because I was out on the ice as soon as I could walk, or I could be surprised because everyone I hang out with plays hockey, "You don't know how to skate?" I ask, trying but failing to keep the shock out of my voice.

"Is that a bad thing?" He replies. He turns his head toward the rink but is still looking at me out of the corner of his eye, a slight smile on his face that never seems to go away completely.

"No, of course not." I say hurriedly, shaking my head. He doesn't seem to believe me and squints his eyes, studying me.

"No, it is a bad thing." He concludes, shaking his head, "It's a deal breaker isn't it?" I open my mouth to say no, but he continues, "I should have known that one day my skating inexperience would be my downfall." He says dramatically. He grins and I laugh as I realize he was just kidding.

"You're right, I don't think I can allow you to sit there anymore if you can't skate." I joke, loosening up a bit. He grins cheekily at me, his green eyes shining.

"Well, I guess I'll just have to learn to skate then." He says simply, crossing his arms and leaning back in the chair. I grin and I'm pretty sure I'm blushing, he doesn't seem to mind though, "I don't think I caught your name." He continues.

"Oh, Marina." I say. Joseph nods thoughtfully.

"Marina." He repeats, drawing out the word. Then a grin spreads across his face, "I like it." He concludes.

"Uh, thanks." I'm not really sure what to say, "Me too?" He laughs, probably aware that I'm at a loss for words.

"I'm Joseph." He says, taking off his glove and offering his hand to me. I take his hand, warm compared to mine, and shake it, "I think we're in the same French class." I raise my eyebrows shocked that he even noticed.

"Yeah, we are." I reply.

"Ugh, I hate that class." Joseph remarks, shaking his head with disgust. I just shrug, I haven't really decided how I feel about that class yet. Although, I don't need to say anything anyway, because he quickly fills the silence once again.

"Aren't you cold?" He asks, and I stupidly look down to see what I'm wearing. All I have on to keep me warm is a hoodie, but after years of coming to the rink, the air conditioned temperature is actually comforting.

"Not really." I shrug, "Are you?" I ask, noticing too late that he's bundled up in jacket, and also has a hat and a pair of gloves on.

"Me? No, of course not. Where would get that impression?" He asks sarcastically. He tilts his head to the side comically and I can't help but laugh.

"Fair enough. But seriously, it's doesn't really seem right for a Canadian to be cold in a hockey rink." I point out, mimicking the look he gave me. He laughs.

"Well, I-" He starts to say, but he's cut off by the buzzer, signalling the end of the girls tryouts. I look up at the ice and see all of the players moving towards the door on the wall of the rink.

"That's my cue." I sigh. I grab my bag off the floor and stand up slowly, reluctant to leave. Joseph stands up as well, backing up against the seat so I can get out. He does a little bow, and I smile.

"It's been a pleasure talking to you, Marina." He says, a lopsided grin on his face. I laugh, walking around him. I walk to the stairs and put my hands in the pocket of my hoodie, turning around to face him.

"Thanks for the company." I say and I see his grin widen before I turn around and walk down the steps. I get to the bottom, but right before I walk out of sight he yells to me.

"I'll see you in French!" He calls from his seat. I wave to him and quickly go to the spot where all of the girls are coming off the ice.

The guys are already lined up outside the door, waiting to get on the ice for their tryouts. The girls walk past them and I pick out Riley right away, even though she still has her goalie mask on. Weird, she's stopped instead of walking with the rest of the girls. When I can't find Maren, I start to wonder if Riley is stopped waiting for her to get off the ice. When I get closer, I find my answer. I hear Maren's voice, before I see her, and by the loudness of it, I can tell she's pissed off.

"Yeah? Well maybe you should watch where you're standing!" She's snapping, and I finally see where she is.

She's standing next to the line of hockey players waiting to go in the ice. She has her helmet taken off and is holding it under her arm, obviously telling someone off. It isn't just someone though. I don't know if it's the hockey gear or not, but this guy looks massive. He also looks just as angry as Maren.

"Are you kidding me? I was standing here first!" He exclaims. I notice his helmet is off too, "Maybe if you opened your eyes you would have seen me!" Of _course_ she had to get in a fight.

Apparently Maren has now had enough, because her jaw clenches in anger and she starts to stalk forward. Before I have a chance to consider the outcome of this fight, Riley grabs her by the back of her jersey and roughly yanks her backwards. I rush forward as Riley pushes Maren forward, away from the line of hockey players. Maren stumbles into me but immediately turns back around, ready to go back. I grab her arm and haul her away before she can start again. She's a little off balance since she's still wearing her hockey skates, so it's not that hard to drag her to the change rooms.

"Maren, what the hell?" I question her once we get far enough away. She shakes her head, her face red from anger and probably a bit of embarrassment now that she's calming down.

"He almost knocked me over, then tried to tell me it was my fault!" She exclaims. I sigh as she runs a hand through her messy hair angrily, "He's such an ass."

"Who was that anyway?" I ask her, "That guy was massive." I add and she snorts.

"I bet he's not that big under all that gear." She scoffs, looking back almost hopefully, like she wants him to come back to finish up business. Thankfully he doesn't, leaving just me and a very frustrated Maren in the corridor.

"Who was it?" I repeat. She looks up, her face set in glare.

"Stanley Worthington." She says. I should have known, she got into a few arguments with him last year, nothing this big but they did a pretty good job of establishing each other as enemies.

"Really, Maren?" I sigh, exasperated. She opens her mouth to defend herself but is cut off by Riley coming up the corridor.

"You forgot something." She says, passing Maren her helmet that must have been dropped when she tried to take on Stanley.

"Thanks." Maren mutters, taking it from her with more force than necessary. We're all silent for a second. Maren leans on the wall on one side of the hallway and I lean on the other, Riley standing in the middle. Finally Riley breaks the silence.

"I apologized to Stanley for you." She says taking off her helmet. I expect Maren to explode but instead she just snorts, apparently cooled down now.

"You didn't need to apologize for me." She mutters.

"Yeah well, I didn't really want you to get jumped in school tomorrow." Riley jokes, trying to find the lighter side in everything as usual. Her comment earns a chuckle from Maren, and I let out a small smile. There's another moment of silence.

"I could have taken him." Maren concludes after a minute, nodding determinedly. Riley laughs and I raise my eyebrows at Maren.

"Go back out and tell him you want a rematch then." I suggest, "I'll even hold your gloves." Maren smirks.

"Maybe I will."

"Don't!" Riley warns, her eyes wide. Maren and I laugh, the argument amusing now that it's in the past. Riley walks in between Maren and I, shaking her head in mock disapproval, "You better hurry up and get that gear off, Maren. I don't want to have to haul you out of anymore fights today." She warns, pressing her back against the change room door to open it. She disappears into the change room and Maren follows.

I roll my eyes. Yup. This year is gonna be fun.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks for the reviews, here's chapter three :)**

* * *

 **Stanley**

"So let me get this straight. You can't come to lunch because you're going to math tutoring?" John asks me in disbelief. I sigh and nod angrily. Right now, Joseph, John, and I are walking up the hall. They get to go to the cafeteria, I get to go to the library.

"I don't really have a choice." I mutter, "It's either get my grades up, or get kicked off the team." I explain. I've only been on the hockey team for a week, and already my spot is being threatened because of my grades.

"That doesn't really seem fair. I mean, your grades can't be that bad yet. Right?" Jospeh pipes up from behind me. I open my mouth to respond, but I can't really defend myself.

"Well..." I start.

"He got sixteen percent on his first math test." John interrupts. I shoot him a glare as Joseph laughs.

"Okay, yeah that's pretty terrible." He admits.

"I can get my grade up on my own, if coach would give me time." I mutter angrily.

"No offence, but I think you might need a little help." John says. I huff turning to him, only to see him smirking at me.

"I don't-"

"Look, I think it's a good thing that your taking these steps." John teases, patting my shoulder.

"You know what they say; the first step to getting help is admitting you have a problem." Joseph joins in. Him and John burst out laughing and I roll my eyes. They're enjoying this way too much.

"You're right I do have a problem. You guys." I retort and I can tell they're stifling more laughter. I stop at my locker to get my math, expecting them to keep walking. Of course, they don't.

"That was hurtful." Joseph says, not even trying to hide the amused smirk on his face.

"Whatever." I grumble, giving up. I grab my math book and slam the locker shut, quickly stalking away so they get lost in the crowd.

I make my way through the crowd to the library, outside the door is a small white board with "MATH TUTORING AT LUNCH" scrawled across it in crappy bubble letters. I sigh, closing my eyes and feeling stupid for having to do this. I take a look around, self-consciously checking for anyone in the hockey team to be walking past. If they see me I'll never hear the end of it. I take a step in.

Inside looks just as bad as the outside, there are about five small, round tables in the room, one person sitting at each. I actually feel myself drop to a new level of hatred for the subject. I'm the only one here for tutoring. I look around, all of the math geeks have their books open ready to teach. All except for one. She's a girl, with medium length brown hair tied in a ponytail, wearing a hoodie and jeans. She's actually beautiful, in a simple way. She definitely doesn't look like she belongs here and for some reason, I feel like I recognize her. Unlike everyone else, she doesn't have her math taken out and instead, sits there doing something on her phone. For a second, I wonder if she's actually here to teach math, but then, I see her books sitting on the table in a messy pile. I almost laugh. She doesn't want to be here either. Well, what's the point of suffering if I'm not going to drag anyone down with me?

I walk over to the table, and only when I lay my books down does she look up from her phone, "Hey, I'm here for math tutoring." I almost spit out. I pull out a seat and plop down into it heavily. She doesn't seem to be turned off by my attitude, which is fortunate because that would make it a long lunch for both of us.

"Okay, cool." She says, sitting up in her chair, "What do you need help with?" She looks at me expectantly as I struggle to form a response. I don't even know what unit we're doing, much less what sections I need to focus on.

"Um, everything?" I say. She looks a little shocked, I guess she was only expecting to help with a question or two, she didn't know she was going to have to recap the entire unit.

"Right." She says, biting her lip. She looks at her books like she doesn't know what to do with them, "Uh... well I'm Riley." She says, probably thinking that an introduction would be a good place to start.

"Stanley." I answer, and her eyebrows pull together. She looks up at me with a hint of recognition.

"Oh, you're in my math. And you're the guy I pulled Maren off of in the hockey rink." She says.

"That was you? The goalie?" I ask and she nods.

"Sorry for her, again. She kind of has a quick temper." She apologizes. Immediately I shake my head, wanting Riley to like me for some reason.

"It's really okay." I assure her, "It was my fault anyway." What am I saying?

"I'm sure it wasn't all your fault." She says, "Anyway, we should work on your math. We only have an hour." Yeah, only an hour.

She starts from the beginning, and I actually listen this time, unlike when Mr. Collins was explaining it. She's not like I was expecting her to be though. As we go through questions, she actually seems to be enjoying herself. Shockingly, I don't mind it either. She cheerily explains the questions, and I find myself retaining the information, and actually having a good time, as weird as that sounds.

"So what do you get for this?" I ask her finally, gesturing around the room, "You can't be doing this for nothing."

"Um, no I'm not." She admits, smiling sheepishly, and I notice a two dimples appear on either side of her face, "They bribe me with volunteer hours." She explains. I remember something about that from the first day of school. We were told we needed thirty hours to graduate. I haven't started mine yet.

"So are you going to do thirty of these tutoring things to get them all?" I ask. She nods like it's no big deal, whereas I just described my personal hell, "So... I take it you like doing this stuff." I guess, nodding to the books on the table. She shrugs.

"Yeah, kind of." She admits, "I like how it's simple." I give her a confused look, and she quickly backtracks, "I mean, it's not simple for a lot of people, I guess not many people find it easy. I do for some reason, I guess I'm weird like that." Riley scratches the back of her neck and looks down at the table. I realize she thinks she offended me and is trying to explain herself.

"I just like it because for a lot of things there's multiple answers, but for math there's only one." She continues, and I stifle a smile, her rambling a little amusing. She sighs, "Thats why it's simple." She finishes, an embarrassed look on her face. She glances toward the clock, probably hoping the bell would ring.

"Well, that was fun to watch." I say after a second. Finally, she looks at me, rolling her eyes. She's smiling though.

"I'm glad you had fun." She says flatly, her voice betraying the happy expression on her face, "Because I'm obviously here to amuse you, not to teach you math at all." I laugh, Riley just shakes her head.

"Speaking of which, we should probably get back to that." I suggest regretfully. I'd really rather just sit and talk to Riley, but if I'm going to get my math grade up I need to put in the work. She nods understandingly, and flips to another question just as the bell rings. It's weird, I almost feel disappointed that it's over.

"Oh well, I guess you'll just have to come back next week." She takes a breath, "I'll be here... slaving away." She sighs dramatically, I snort.

"Slaving away." I repeat, shaking my head, "If I never came you would have been on your phone the whole time." I point out, smirking at her.

"If it makes you feel any better, I wouldn't have had any fun if I was on my phone." She says, packing up her books. I raise an eyebrow at her.

"So you had fun today?" I ask her, feeling happy for some reason.

"Is that even a question? Math is always fun." She looks up from her books and gives me a 'duh' look, which only makes me smile wider.

"I guess the company wasn't bad either though." She admits, and for some reason, it makes me feel a million times lighter. Riley finishes with her books and picks them up in her arms. She looks at me for a second before arching an eyebrow, probably because I'm grinning like an idiot.

She starts towards the door, "See you around, Miss Pierce." I call, remembering what Mr. Collins called her on the first day. She catches on and laughs.

She turns around and looks at me with a half smile, "See you around." She replies, then she's gone.

Only when she leaves am I able to tone down the smile. I pick up my books and head to my next class.

 **Maren**

My house is pretty uninteresting. Small with white siding that I was told was once blue, creaky wooden steps leading up to a red door with one square window on either side. Every house in my suburb looks the same anyway, and mine is no exception, blending in the with the others, only a slightly different design then the house next to it. It's small, with only one floor (not including the basement) and two bedrooms, not that I mind though. Mom and I are the only ones that live here anyway.

I jump out of my car and walk up the creaky steps I mentioned earlier, pulling out my keys and unlocking the front the door. It's quiet inside, I already knew Mom wasn't home from work yet since her car wasn't in the driveway. If she's not home yet, that means it will probably be around 6:00 until she arrives, and if she isn't back by then, who knows when she'll get off.

I go down the hall and into my bedroom, it's terribly chaotic at best. My bed is unmade, random blankets litter the carpet, and washed clothes, that I didn't bother to put away yet, sits on a chair in the corner, the pile teetering precariously because of the height. I vaguely wonder how far my laziness will go as I pick down through the tower and rip a pair of jogging shorts out, holding onto the peak to make sure the rest doesn't topple over. I've never been a particularly tidy person. Generally, as long as my bed is visible from my door, I'm more than satisfied. Because Mom is a bit of a tidy freak, I strongly suspect that I got my shambolic nature from my father. Not that I would know anyway.

I shove on the shorts and a loose shirt, quickly going out through the door before the sun goes down. I step outside, a gentle breeze washing over me, already threaded with strands of cold in advance to the coming winter. These are my favourite kinds of days, in the months before winter when the sun sets early and I can eat supper just as the sky loses its light. I take a few paces down the sidewalk, briefly stretching both arms before speeding up into a light jog. I only do a short jog around the neighbourhood, four and a half kilometres, maybe five. The winds feels stronger as I pick up speed, but it's refreshing.

As I run, I notice myself subconsciously looking at the homes in orderly rows on either side of the street. I briefly wonder about the lives of the people who live in these houses, most are bigger than mine so they must have families or apartments or whatever. I pass by Riley's old house, it looks like the rest but stands out to me. Her sister wanted to move after the death of their mother, so they now live about ten minutes away from here. We used to ride our bikes up to Marina's house, which wasn't a very long trek, even for two little kids. For me, this street holds many cliche kid memories, like riding bikes, drawing with chalk, stuff like that. Not many of them are very strong though, faded with time as memories do.

I remember Marina's dad, which isn't that hard since he only died two years ago. I also remember Riley's dad, she was close with him. My issues with my father aren't like Marina's, the slow, continuous crawl of sickness and the life being drained out of the body until finally, that person is embraced by the sweet release of death, leaving behind grief and sorrow and family members that are never truly the same. Nor is it like Riley's, a quick departure by the wrong doing of another person. Unlike both of them, my father didn't play a big part in raising me, or any part at all for that matter. He just wasn't there, gone when I was born. Apparently he couldn't handle the stress of caring for a child and left all of the responsibility to Mom. I think of it as a cowardly decision, made by the unstable mind of a jerk that cared too much about himself to risk his life enjoyment on another living thing. But, whatever. I'm over it.

I continue to run.

. . .

When I get back, I'm surprised to see Mom's Ford Escape in the driveway, she must have gotten off early. I walk up the steps and put my keys in the front door, but it's already unlocked. I step inside, the aroma of deep fried food wafting through the house. Hearing noise inside the kitchen, I go there first and smile when I see mom unpacking a bag of KFC.

"You got home early." I observe, leaning against the kitchen doorway.

"Yeah, they let me off before my shift was over so I decided to get supper on the way home." She explains, still digging around in the bag.

"Cool, cool." I walk over to set the table and Mom looks up as I open the cupboard, eyeing my running clothes.

"We should get you a dog." She says causally. Confused, I raise an eyebrow.

"A dog?"

"Yeah." She answers, like it wasn't just the most random thing in the world. I pull two plates out of the cupboard as she continues, "With all that running you do, it might be nice for you to have a partner." She shrugs and looks up at me, I squint my eyes at her skeptically, laying the plates down on the table.

"Are you okay, Mom?" I ask. She shoots me a glare and I raise my eyebrows at her, opening the drawer to get the silverware.

"I am completely fine, thank you." She says, "I was just on my way home from work and I saw a dog jogging with this woman and I thought, 'You know who jogs a lot? My daughter. I should get her a dog.'"

"Well, I'm good without a dog." I assure her. I pull out a chair to sit down and she does the same on the other side of the table. Mom sighs.

"I know, I just worry." She shakes her head and gets a piece of chicken out of the box.

"You worry? About what?" I ask.

"Like, what if you drop down with a heart attack on the next street over? Or you get jumped or something?"

"Oh yes," I say with mock sympathy, "how could I forget about the immense dangers of a suburb five minutes away from a school?" I pretend to shudder, "Thanks for reminding me, Mom, or I might have just wandered right into the waiting jaws of an ax murderer." She rolls her eyes, a small smile on her face that tells me she's amused.

"Whatever, I'm just saying that it might be nice for you to have some company." She takes a bite out of her chicken as I pick up a piece. I assume the conversation is over when she doesn't say anything for a minute, then, "Why don't you ask Marina or Riley if they want to go?" She suggests with a shrug. I roll my eyes.

"No." I respond, "Marina doesn't even go jogging. And it doesn't make sense for Riley to drive ten minutes just to go for a run." Mom sighs again and shakes her head, "Where's this coming from anyway? I've been running on my own for four years now." I question. Mom presses her lips together, but doesn't say anything for moment, shaking her head.

"It's just..." she trails off. I don't say anything, waiting for her to finish, "There were a couple break-ins about ten minutes from here. And I don't want you to be out there alone." She explains finally.

"Oh." I say. We're both silent for a second, "Well, at least they're only breaking and entering, not taking people off the street." I reason. She lets out a frazzled laugh.

"That's not the point, Maren. The point is, it's dangerous out there and you shouldn't be going out by yourself."

She raises her eyebrows at me and I know I'm not getting out of this one. We've always been really close since it's only ever been the two of us, so Mom often crosses the line between best friend and guardian. Right now, she's in Mom mode. And when she's in Mom mode, she always gets her way, no matter how much I try to argue.

"Fine, if it worries you _that_ much, I'll ask Riley." I tell her, pretending like I have a choice. Mom grins, clearly relieved, "But if we both get kidnapped, I'm blaming you for making her come." I add smirking. Her smile fades a little.

"Do you have to be so dark? Nobody's getting kidnapped." She sighs. I decide to humour her.

"Well, certainly not now that there's two of us to deal with the assailants." I rub my hands together, "We'll be unstoppable."

"My thoughts exactly."

"Two of us could probably take down about six grown adults..." I continue.

"Now your getting ahead of yourself."

"If we brought Marina, that's makes nine..."

"Maren?"

"Yes?"

"Eat your damn supper."

. . .

"So, why all of a sudden do you want a jogging partner?" Riley asks me as we walk out of the door. I lock it behind me. I invited her over after school to go jogging, as per Mom's instruction yesterday.

"Well, mom wanted me to go jogging with somebody. It was either I bring you or she'd get me a dog. Consider yourself liked." I tell her. She laughs as I turn away from the door and we start down the steps.

"Wow, thank god after twelve years of friendship I've finally been assured that you like me." She says sarcastically. We do a couple stretches, then we're off. Slow at first but gradually picking up speed as we go.

"So, why did Katerina want someone to go with you?" Riley asks after a second, continuing our conversation.

"Oh, there were a couple break-and-enters around here and she got worried." I explain.

"Oh yeah, that happen two streets over from my house." She says casually, as if she was talking about the weather. She lives in a sketchy area of town, even though it's just ten minutes away from me.

"You're not worried that your house is going to be robbed?" I ask. She shrugs.

"A little." She admits, both of us breathing a little heavy now, "But oh well, live sucks then you die."

"Well, that's encouraging." I reply flatly and Riley laughs realizing how depressing it sounded. I start to go a little faster but notice that Riley doesn't pick up her speed. Feeling cocky, I turn around, jogging backwards so I can face her.

"Really, R?" I taunt, "Come on, pick it up!" She rolls her eyes.

"Show off." She mutters and I laugh. She shakes her head but speeds up to my pace anyway, coming up alongside of me as I turn back around.

"I _knew_ you could go faster." I tease her. She makes an annoyed noise.

"You should have taken the freaking dog."

* * *

 **I know that might have seemed slow but I figured I should give some insight into Maren's life. Please review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey, sorry I haven't posted in couple weeks, I had a lot going on. But now it's Easter break so I had a chance to catch up on it so, here's chapter four, thanks for the reviews!**

* * *

 **Marina**

French class is a little dry, but I don't mind it. My teacher, Mr. Ricardo makes it pretty interesting, always having this weird yet positive passage to share. Because I'm usually quiet in class, I'm not really noticed that much, so I'm a little startled when I walk into class and Mr. Ricardo trains his gaze on me.

"Marina!" He exclaims. A few of my classmates look at him with weird expressions and I blush when I hear a few people snicker. Mr. Ricardo doesn't seem to care, just looking at me with a peaceful smile. Not really knowing wether I should go up to him or sit at my desk, I kind of just slow my steps until I can see what he wants.

"Um, hi, Mr. Ricardo. How are you today?" I ask him, not really knowing what to say.

"Ah, the happiness of your life depends upon the quality of your thoughts." He replies. His response makes absolutely no sense considering the question I asked him, but it makes me feel good anyway.

"Okay, that's... good?" I say awkwardly. He continues to smile warmly at me.

"Marina..." he repeats. I can only picture the look of confusion on my face.

"Yeah?" I answer.

"Did you know that your name means 'of the sea'?" He asks me. I shake my head, no, still confused as to where this conversation is going. "Do you know what that means?" Again, I'm not really sure how to answer.

"Uh, no?" I reply anyway, assuming he'll tell me the answer.

"It means..." he says quietly, like he's letting me in on a secret, "that our class has our very own sea queen."

Even though the comment strikes me as a weird thing for a teacher to say to a student, I can't help but smile. 'Of the sea'. I like it.

"Well, thanks. I didn't know my name meant anything." I admit.

"Ah, every name means something." He assures me. He smiles, then starts typing on his keyboard. Accepting this as my cue to go, I take my seat at the back of the class.

I'm only sitting down for a second before someone plops down in the seat next to mine. I automatically smile when I see Joseph, he's taken to sitting there ever since we talked at the rink. Not that I mind of course. He looks over at me and grins, a mischievous glint in his eyes that's not really uncommon for him. He doesn't say anything though, just stares at me looking like he's holding back a laugh.

"What?" I ask, narrowing my eyes at him in suspicion.

"Marina of the sea, huh?" He arches an eyebrow at me. I raise my eyebrows at him, trying to play off my embarrassment.

"Were you eavesdropping?" I accuse him, struggling to keep the laugh out of my voice. Joseph's eyes widen with exaggerated horror and he puts a hand over his heart.

"I would never." He shakes his head, his curls falling into his eyes, "I was just walking by, and I couldn't help but overhear the official crowning of the schools sea queen." He explains. I try to glare at him but I'm pretty sure my face is red because his grin only widens.

"So," he continues before I can say anything else, "I've been thinking about what you said at the rink." He slides his desk a little closer, while I stare at him confused. What could I have said to him that caused him to contemplate it for over a week? I open my mouth to ask him but he puts a finger up, "Please do not interrupt me, Sea Queen. I planned this out."

"Oh, sorry." I say, nodding like I understand what's happening.

"Thank you. Now where was I?" While Joseph puts a hand on his chin like he's in deep thought, I look at the front of the classroom to find that Mr. Ricardo is still on his computer, which means he probably didn't hear the bell ring two minutes ago.

I train my attention back on Joseph as he continues, "Right, so I've been thinking about what you said at the rink. And you are completely right. What a fool I was to think I was worthy of your attention without having the foresight to learn such an elementary skill." He rests an arm on the back of his chair so he can face me, "But of course, how was an simple-minded citizen like myself, supposed to know about her Majesty's preferences when it comes to associating with random, creepy guys in a hockey rink?" He shakes his head and opens his mouth to continue, until he sees the look of confusion on my face.

"You don't know what I'm talking about." He says. I shake my head and he sighs dramatically, "When I told you I couldn't skate and you looked at me like you just saw a ghost." _Right_ , now I remember.

"Okay, I didn't look _that_ bad." I roll my eyes and Joseph laughs.

"I'm not saying you looked bad, you looked quite good actually." He winks at me and I can't help but laugh, my face heating up like it does so easily. "Anyway, as I was saying. Ever since the dramatic decline of my dignity that day, I have decided that I would take some steps to improve upon myself." He pauses and I raise my eyebrows at him expectantly. He smirks, "Now, I didn't learn to skate or anything if that's what your thinking, Marina of the sea." I give him a tired look and he grins cheekily. I see Mr. Ricardo get up from his desk and I start to tell Joseph to hurry up, but again, he puts up a finger.

"Marina, I will not express to you how much time it took me to memorize this speech, so instead, I respectfully demand your silence while I present my soliloquy." He raises his eyebrows at me and I quickly gesture for him to continue. "No, I didn't learn to skate, how could I when I am so inexperienced? I wouldn't even know where to start. But of course, here I am, sitting in the presence of royalty, not being able to do the one thing that is a necessity to gaining your affection. I decided that I must do it. I have to learn to glide across frozen water, if not for the sake of you, than for the sake of earning respect for myself."

His speech is dramatic and over the top, but even so, I can't stop the smile from spreading across my face as he talks. We both look to the front of the classroom as Mr. Ricardo begins talking in French. Instead of listening, Joseph just turns back to me and speaks in a quieter tone.

"But once again, the universe has me at a disadvantage. You see, Marina, I have nobody to teach me such a skill." Is he going to ask me to teach him to skate? Joseph grins at me as I start to get it. He puts his hands together in a praying motion. "Marina, of the sea, will you please teach me to skate."

I honestly don't really know what to say. I haven't skated in two years, I haven't even thought about going out on the ice, let alone with a guy I've known for barely a week. _A very attractive guy that I've known for barely a week_ , I think right after. Wait, is he asking me on a date? Is that what this is? Before I can get my thoughts in order, I realize that I have been silent for a little too long so I should probably say something.

"That was well worded." I say stupidly. Joseph grins proudly.

"Thanks, I worked hard on it." He stares at me with a half smile, not creepy, but long enough to make my face go red. Meanwhile, Mr. Ricardo continues to speak in front of the class, but I hardly notice him, I'm too busy trying to decide how to tell Joseph I can't teach him to skate. I haven't been on the ice in so long, who's to say I still even know how to skate?

"Um..." I start, Joseph raises an eyebrow at me.

"Please don't say you can't skate. If you say you can't skate, you are officially the biggest hypocrite I've ever heard of." He says.

"I can skate." I laugh. "I just haven't in like, two years. I might be a little rusty, and I've never taught anybody to skate before." That's a lie. I taught Ella, but I'm not going to tell him that. He doesn't seem discouraged.

"Well, you could never be as bad as me, and I have no doubt that you will be an amazing teacher." He pauses, "You don't even have to drive, just meet me by my car after school and we'll go." He offers. I snort and he looks at me confused.

"I barely know you. You could be a kidnapper, or a fugitive serial killer, I don't know." I know as soon as I say it that it's not true. I'm just grasping at straws now.

Joseph bursts out laughing, causing Mr. Ricardo to look back at us. He quickly recovers though, his laugh effortlessly turning into a coughing fit. Unlike Joseph, I'm able to stifle my laugh until Mr. Ricardo turns his attention from us, and Joseph leans over to me, a grin still on his face.

"Well, that's always a possibility." He says, still laughing. "Take a chance, Sea Queen." He looks me in the eyes, more sincere now. "I would be honoured to be your student."

Well, how can I say no to that?

. . .

"Marina of the sea!" Joseph greets me as I walk up to him. He's standing outside the school doors with one hand in his jean pocket, the other holding the book bag he has slung over his shoulder. I smile at him with a little less enthusiasm than the grin he's wearing.

"You need to stop calling me that." I tell him once I get close enough. I get to where he's standing and he turns around to walk with me.

"Why? does it embarrass you?" He cocks his head to the side comically and I roll my eyes.

"No." I say.

"Yes it does." He says after a second.

"How would you know?"

"I can see it in your eyes." He points at my face and shake my head smiling.

All of a sudden, Joseph starts to jog ahead of me. He stops at navy blue car and opens to passenger side door, beckoning me forward.

"Our chariot awaits, your Majesty."

. . .

"Holy crap, how do you lace these things up?" Joseph sits next to me on the change room bench, his brows furrowed in confusion as he stares down at the skates on his feet.

He brought me to my house before we came to the rink so I could get my figure skates, which I had to dig through my closet for about five minutes before I found them. I had them taken out of their holder, put on, and tied up within three minutes of being here. Jospeh however, took all that time to get his feet into his skates. I study his rented skates, which are hockey ones because he didn't want to "sacrifice his masculinity" as he put it.

"I'm pretty sure it's just like lacing up shoes." I shrug. I'm only familiar with figure skates. I briefly consider texting Maren or Riley so they can explain it, but then I'd have to tell them what I was doing and I'm not really up for that many questions today. "It can't be that hard." Figure skates are pretty simple to tie and it looks like hockey skates are the same, just a little wider.

I get off the bench and kneel down in front of him so I can see better. "Maybe we should have asked for some velcro." Joseph jokes. I laugh and start to do up his skates. It really isn't that hard, exactly like lacing up shoes actually, I start to wonder why he couldn't do it himself.

Once I finish, I get up, Joseph does too, a little unsteady. "This is... weird." He says, bouncing a little on his skates, which causes him to stumble slightly. His eyes widen as he catches himself and he grins sheepishly. "Does it get easier when I'm on the ice?" He asks.

"Nope, it just gets harder from here."

"I thought teachers were supposed to be encouraging."

"I tried to warn you that I wouldn't be a good teacher."

"Now, that's where we disagree." Joseph moves towards the door with some struggle, but doesn't fall so that's a plus. He opens the door and holds it. "Shall we?" He grins as I walk through the open doorway with much less trouble than he did.

There's only about ten people out on the ice. Some of the kids use those walker-like things and unsteadily push themselves around. Joseph points to one. "I think we should get me one of those." He says, and it's hard to tell if he's kidding or not.

"I think you'll be fine." I say.

"And we disagree again." We get to the door in the rink wall, I pull up on the lever and it swings open.

Suddenly, as I look down at the ice, I don't want to go. It's stupid and weird but I feel like I'm not ready, like I forgot how to skate and I'm not going to know where to put my feet when I get out there. Maybe it's because I haven't skated in forever, but it's probably because when I look up, I won't see my dad in the stands. I take a step back.

"You should go first." I say to Joseph, who raises an eyebrow at me but doesn't question it.

He walks forward and puts one skate cautiously on the ice. When it slips forward slightly, he quickly pulls his leg back in, shaking his head. "Yup that's definitely ice." He laughs nervously, bringing a smile out of me.

"Okay, just step out and hold onto the wall." I suggest. I try to remember how Dad taught me to skate, but it was so long ago that I can't even recall the moment. It's weird how you can remember how to do things but can't remember how you were taught.

Joseph nods, taking my advice and gripping a gloved hand tightly to the wall. He takes a nervous breath. It's a little funny to see him like this. He's usually so confident, I'm not used to seeing him being the awkward one. I stifle a laugh.

"You think this is funny?" He asks, twisting around to look at me. I shake my head, wiping the smile off my face.

"No, it's mostly just sad." I shrug sympathetically and a grin breaks out on Joseph's face, causing me to smile too.

"This is _scary_ , Marina. Men are allowed to be scared." I laugh and he turns back around, looking out at the ice. If I could see his hands, I can guarantee he'd have a white-knuckled grip on the wall. Still, he hesitates.

"Just count to three and do it." I repeat the same advice that Riley had given me once, when I was nervous about regionals. It's pretty simple, but it worked.

"Okay." Joseph says. Nodding determinedly, he starts to count. "One. Two." He pauses. "Three."

Joseph puts one skate onto the ice, and pushes off with his other foot. Luckily, he's still clinging to the wall, so after a rather wobbly entrance, he's able to pull himself to the the boards and hang on to the side of the rink. His eyes widen as he realizes that he's successfully standing on the ice. He grins proudly and shoots me a thumbs-up through the glass, which I laugh at. Now it's my turn.

I take a deep breath, and stupidly look across the ice to the seats. Of course, nobody is there. I clench my jaw. It's okay. I can do this by myself now.

I step onto the ice and push off like I've done a thousand times before, much more graceful than Joseph's entrance. I feel much more comfortable out here and a grin breaks out on my face. I easily turn around a few feet away from the door and skate back to Jospeh who's still trying to figure out how to balance. I stop next to him and lean on the window.

"Now might be the time for some pointers." He says nervously. "Like maybe, how to move?"

"You're gonna need to turn around first." I say, hoping it's the right thing to get him off the wall.

"Hm, making me do the complicated stuff right off the bat, huh?" He says shakily, throwing me a weak smile over his shoulder.

He still does as I tell him, stiff as he turns around, now holding onto the wall with his hands behind him. I show him the most simple way to move, keeping one skate straight while pushing with the other foot. He shrugs after I'm done and counts to three again, then lets go of the wall.

"Alright." I call to him, further down the rink now. "Skate over here, you can hold onto the wall with one hand if you want." He raises an eyebrow at me and with a smirk, slides the hand closest to the wall in his jacket pocket.

"That's the easy way out! Sea Queen, I am a rebel!" He shouts, the confident Joseph that I've gotten to know, resurfacing for a second. But then he loses his balance again and I can't stop a laugh when he rips his hand out of his pocket and grabs onto the boards again.

With a nervous grin, he slowly starts to make his way down to me. When he's about halfway to me, he takes his hand off the wall and does the one foot push thing I showed him. He whoops and I grin, glad that my teaching actually worked. Although, as he come closer he drifts farther and farther away from the wall, and to make it worse, he's actually speeding up. I can see the panic on his face as he gets closer, his pride from a moment ago, gone.

"Marina of the sea?" He asks, sounding panicked. "This might be a bad time to ask but, how do you stop?" Crap.

Joseph is still coming toward me and doesn't look like he's about to slow down. He has his arms held out in front of him, and I start to skate backwards to avoid getting hit.

"Just, dig your skate into the ice." I say, hopefully calmly. Confusion crosses Joseph's face and he looks up at me.

"How?" He asks desperately.

"Um..." I don't really know how to explain it. Suddenly, my back hits the boards of the rink and my feet almost go out from under me. I've just recovered when I look up to see Joseph right in front of me. I get out of the way just as he hits the wall, but unlike me, he doesn't manage to catch himself and falls in a sitting position on the ice. He doesn't try to get up though, instead, stretching out on his back with his arms above his head. Both of us are silent for a second, he breaths heavily while I struggle not to smile.

"You know what? I take it back. You _are_ a sucky teacher." He says.

I laugh then, actually having to hold onto the boards to keep my balance. After a second he starts chuckling too, and I slide down the wall, putting a hand over my mouth to muffle the sound. Then we're both just sitting on the ice, laughing like idiots. It's a good thing there aren't many people here. After a minute I push myself back up the boards and skate over to Joseph to where he's now in a sitting position, with his legs stretched out in front him. I extend a hand to help him up.

"Are you ready?" I ask him, still laughing through my words. He grins up at me and nods, taking my hand and getting up with such a struggle that he almost ends up pulling me down with him.

"You have a nice laugh." He states once we're standing. I feel my face heat up and realize that I'm still holding his hand. I quickly let go and skate in front of him so I can face him.

"Alright, now let's teach you how to stop." I say, ignoring his compliment because I really don't know what to say to it.

I spend a while just getting him to scrape at the ice with his skate so he gets an idea of how to stop, then we go around the rink for a bit. Him holding onto both my hands as I skate backwards, because I don't really trust him not to fall again.

"You're skating backwards." He observes after a while.

"I am."

"When do I get to do that?"

"When you learn to stop." I say smirking at him. He laughs and his lack of focus causes him to lose his balance for a second, gripping tighter into my hands as he re-orients himself. I easily stop myself and wait until he gets his bearings, he shakes his head.

"How do you skate so well?" He asks as we continue.

"I used to be in figure skating." I say shrugging, but also surprised I chose to tell him that. It's not really the type of information I just give out.

"Really?" Joseph asks with a little too much enthusiasm. I raise an eyebrow at him and nod. He laughs. "Why aren't you out there twirling around and doing flips? Go show these people whose boss!"

"I need to stay here and make sure you don't fall." I say, shaking my head.

"I won't fall." He assures me, then almost falls over as he skids to a stop. He grins at me almost giddy, like a kid. "I'll stay right here, and you go out and do a trick or something." Before I can say anything, he lets go if my hands and holds onto the wall instead.

"Since when did you learn how to stop?" I ask, hoping to change the subject. He doesn't fall for it.

"I guess I just needed a bit of motivation." He says smirking.

"And that motivation is?"

"Seeing you go out there and do a twirly thing." He says and I can't help but smile at his description of a spin.

"It's not as cool as you think it is." I try, but Joseph shakes his head.

"I will be the judge of that." He crosses his arms and waits. I try to glare at him but end up failing when he shoots me back the same expression.

"I probably can't even remember how-"

"Do a spin! Do a spin!" He starts chanting, interrupting my excuse.

I cross my arms and raise my eyebrows at him but he just keeps chanting it louder and louder. Eventually, he's almost screaming it, and it takes me almost pushing him off his feet for him to stop. Still, he just grins at me.

"Do a spin, Marina. Just one. For me." He puts his hands in a praying gesture and I roll my eyes. I guess it couldn't hurt.

"Okay." I say and his eyes light up. "One spin." He nods enthusiastically and leans back on the boards.

"Whenever your ready, Sea Queen."

I roll my eyes again at the nickname, but a small smile crosses my face anyway. It's starting to grow on me. Before he can say anything else, I skate out to the middle of the ice. After I've built up some speed, I swing my arms around me for momentum and do a simple one footed scratch spin. I skate back to Joseph-my face probably red-where he's waiting, his mouth open and eyes wide in a look of awe, even though it's wasn't even that special.

"How did you do that?" He exclaims. He keeps looking out at the ice as I come up to him. "You were going straight and then-" he shakes his head. And I laugh despite myself.

"I'll teach you how to do that next lesson." I joke and he snaps his head around to look at me.

"You mean we're going to do this again?" He asks excitedly and I blush as I realize what I said.

"Well, I mean... if you want-"

"Yes, yes! I want." He exclaims before I've even finished my sentence. I grin at the look on his face and I reach my arms out to him.

"Shall we?" I ask, using his earlier words.

"We shall." He replies, taking my hands. "You know, you looked really good. Doing the spin I mean, but also in general." He continues as we start moving again.

"Thanks." I reply, looking down at our skates to hide my face, which I'm sure is red.

"No seriously though. You looked different. Sea Queen, you looked alive!" He adds and I raise an eyebrow at him.

"Are you implying that I look dead usually?" I joke.

"No, exactly the opposite actually." He laughs.

We continue to go around like that until the buzzer noises, signalling the end of the skating time. I let go of him as we make our way to the door, and he manages to get there on his own. I'm actually relieved to see that he's a lot better than when we first came out. Once we have all the gear taken off, Joseph returns his skates and we go out to the car so he can drive me home. The sky is just beginning to get dark as I get home, and I realize it's 5:30.

"By the way, my friend is having a party this Friday. And to thank you for letting me be your student today, I would like to invite you. And you can bring whoever you want of course." Joseph says once he's parked his car outside my house.

"Oh, okay." I say, even though I'm not really sure if I want to go or not. I haven't really been to a lot of parties as you can imagine.

He grins. "Cool, so I'll just text you the address." He continues as I open the door. I look at him in confusion.

"Wait, you don't have my number." I say.

"Right!" He says, shaking his head. "Well, I'm gonna need that." He looks at me for a second before handing me his phone with the contacts app already loaded onto the screen.

He didn't even look at the phone before handing it to me, which leads me to believe he's had his phone like that since we left the rink. I feel light as I take the phone from him and enter my number. Joseph has a huge grin on his face that I can't help but giggle at as I hand his phone back to him.

"Well, I guess I'll be in touch with you." He says, taking the phone .

"I guess you will." I step out of the car and wave to him as I close the door. He gives me a salute and I roll my eyes, turning away and making my way towards the door. He honks the horn as he reaches the end of the driveway and I wave to him again before unlocking the door and heading inside.

When I walk in, Ella is already sitting on the stairs waiting for me. She must have heard the car horn, and judging by the way she's looking at me, she knows it wasn't Maren or Riley dropping me off. She eyes my skates as I lay them on the floor and raises an eyebrow.

"Hey, how was your day?" I ask her. She just shrugs.

"Not as good as your's by the looks of it." She replies. I feel my face heat up and she grins knowingly. She's only twelve, how does she know so much? "So, who's your new boyfriend, Marina?"

I glare at her. This is going to be a long night.

 **John**

"This is the gym?" I arch an eyebrow at Stanley over the roof of his car, then open the back door get my gym bag.

"What were you expecting, a five star resort with a couple Ferraris out front?" He smirks at me and starts to walk towards the gym. I grab my bag and jog to catch up with him.

"No, but I had hoped it would look a little less eager to die." I mutter, nodding to the chipping foundation and actual holes in the wall.

The place in front of me looks like it's violating several health and safety codes, and the sign above the door, reading "Jim's Gym", swings precariously and I'm afraid it may fall down. No, this is definitely not the image I got when Stanley told me we were going to the best gym in town, especially when he said he'd have to buy my membership for me because I wouldn't be able to afford it. I should have known he was messing with me. I keep my eyes focused on the teetering sign as we pass underneath it, in fear it will fall and crush me beneath it, which Stanley laughs at. He darts in front of me and opens the door.

"Ladies first." He says, his smirk only growing when I glare at him.

As soon as I step in, the scent of sweat and metal overwhelms me, and it takes a conscious effort for me to keep a straight face and not cover my nose. They're really in need for some air fresheners. As I look around, I'm surprised that it's bigger and better managed than I originally thought when I saw the exterior, although it still looks a bit ratty. I look around, surprised to see the amount of gym equipment organized into the space, and it actually looks to be in decent shape. In one corner, there are a few treadmills, ellipticals, and bikes, obviously the cardio zone. There's other spaces for strength and endurance training, and I raise my eyebrows at Stanley, pleased despite myself.

A muscled guy comes over behind the desk and Stanley introduces me, seeming to be on good terms with him. The man doesn't even ask for our membership cards before waving us into the change room with a friendly smile. We have to go down a narrow hallway to get there, and I almost trip up on tuffs of dark red carpet multiple times. Why would you even put carpet in a gym? I have a feeling it contributes greatly to the smell.

"So, what do you think?" Stanley asks me once we get changed.

"It's alright." I say shrugging, not wanting to boost his ego too much, which is almost impossible. He grins at me and I can tell he took my compliment to heart. "You have a gym in your house though, why would you need to come here?" I ask, before he can get too cocky.

"I've been coming here for a year now, Dad thought I needed more friends." We walk back down the hallway and I make sure to lift my feet high to avoid tripping again.

"Did you find any?" I ask and he gives me a look.

"No, why do you think you're here?" He shakes his head and we wordlessly make our way over to the treadmills.

"Why didn't Joe come?" I continue. Stanley rolls his eyes as he sets the speed into the machine, clearly annoyed.

"He said he had a date, something about a girl in his French class." He says irritably, and I can't tell if he's mad because I'm asking so many questions or because Joseph has a date and he doesn't. I suspect the latter.

I copy the setting Stanley put in his treadmill into my own, and I start to move into a light jog, good for warming up. "Jealous?" I ask him, smirking.

He snorts. "No, just annoyed because you're asking so many goddamn questions."

I leave the conversation at that and try to entertain myself by looking at the people around me. There's only a couple other people using the cardio machines. The strength part of the gym demands the most attention with about a dozen sweaty guys doing bench presses with weights that are way too heavy for them. I have a feeling Stanley would be over there if I wasn't here.

After I get my pace and breathing regulated, I decide to up the speed a notch, the treadmill making a beeping noise as I press to up arrow. I continue jogging, content with my speed. That is, until I hear two beeps from the treadmill next to me. I glance over at Stanley to see him going a tad faster than me after just turning up the speed on his own treadmill. He keeps looking straight ahead, but I know he did it to show me up. It shouldn't bother me, he's just arrogant and cocky, I should just let it go. This isn't a competition.

I kick the speed up two notches.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a sour look cross Stanley's face. For a second I don't hear anything, and I start to think he let it go. Of course, as soon as I have that thought I hear two beeps from along side of me, and look over to see Stanley smirking. I grit my teeth in annoyance, both because of Stanley, and because I'm falling into his stupid competition. I'm better than this, I should stop, be the bigger person. I turn up the speed again. Not a second after do I hear another couple beeps from Stanley's machine.

I'm not sure how fast the treadmill goes but I intend to find out. We keep going until both of our legs are pumping as fast as they can go. We're both covered in sweat and I can barely hear Stanley's breathing over my own wheezes. Right now I'm going one level faster than him, and he looks over at me panting just as hard, and wipes his forehead with a towel. He reaches forward, his hand shaking because of his pounding steps, and presses the button twice, going one level faster than me.

I clench my jaw, finding it hard to keep going but I have to because I've already taken it this far. But I don't know if I can go any faster. I desperately fight through the burning in my muscles, not sure I can last much longer. Although, if I'm feeling this way, that means Stanley must be having a similar struggle. I just need to go a little faster. I click the button once. My legs can barely keep up. Twice.

Bad idea.

The heightened speed shocks me and I stumble, my arms flailing in front of me but I can't seem to get a grip on the arm rests. I frantically try to get control of my feet but it's a lost cause. I fall.

I put my arms in front of my head to keep my face from getting scraped on the tracks. My body flys backwards and I actually flip over, my feet slam into moving floor, sending me back until my spine hits the elliptical behind me. I groan, leaning over to lie on my side while I try to calm my breathing. I stare forward as my arms and back throb and see Stanley turn off his machine and mine. He stays there for a second, leaning on the side of treadmill. His shoulders are shaking and it takes me a minute to realize he's laughing.

Finally, he crouches next to me with his hands on his knees. His face is red and I can't tell if that's from laughing or exertion. Probably a bit of both.

"Oh my god!" He howls. "That was the funniest shit I've ever seen!" He can barely get his words out over his laughter.

Deciding that I don't want to look any more pathetic then I already am, I push myself back into a sitting position and lean my head back, closing my eyes. Only when my breathing slows do I feel a stinging in my arms. I lift them in front of me to see a series of long scratches moving all the way from my pinky figure to my elbow on both arms. I guess they hit the treadmill pretty hard. The cuts are all bleeding pretty heavily and blood drips from my elbows. Maybe that's why they have a red carpet. It takes a second for Stanley to notice and he arches a concerned eyebrow, although it's hard to see the sympathy behind his grin.

"I think I need a bandage." I mumble.

"You think?" He laughs, shaking his head. He gets up and puts a hand on my shoulder. "I'll go get a first aid kit, try not to hurt yourself while I'm gone." He walks away, leaving me with my broken pride.

I just sit there for a while, watching the blood drip off my arms and blend into the carpet. I start wonder how many other people have bled on this carpet, but then I remember that there's probably not a lot of people that are stupid enough to do what I just did. What kind of idiot turns the treadmill up to the highest setting just to, do what? Prove a point?

I feel something bump my left shoulder. Thinking it's Stanley, I immediately look up with a glare, ready to take the first aid kit. It's not Stanley though. Maren stands in front of me, a smirk on her face that looks a lot like Stanley's, but the expression looks way better on her.

"I think this is yours." She says. She holds a sneaker in her hand, it's what she bumped my shoulder with, and I look down to see my left foot bare with just a sock on. I didn't even realize I lost a shoe in the chaos.

I take it from her with what I hope is a smile, but by the way she laughs, it probably looks more like a grimace. "Thanks." I say, bringing my sore leg toward me and slipping the sneaker on.

"No problem." She replies.

I try to bend my back so I can tie up my shoe laces, but it hurts quite a bit so I abandon the effort, sticking out my leg and resorting to trying again later. Without a word, Maren comes over and sits on the now stopped treadmill in front of me. She puts my foot in between hers and gratitude surges through me as she ties my shoe. I guess she can be nice sometimes, although she's never nice in math. I guess that subject brings the worst out of everybody anyway.

"Thanks." I say again.

"Yeah, well I figured _somebody_ should tie it right judging by how easily it came off just then." She finishes tying it. "That was quite the show you guys were putting on. I mean, until..." she trails off with a teasing grin and I smile, my mood already improved.

"It might have gotten a bit out of hand." I admit shrugging.

"Well, you did almost break your back so I would say that's accurate." She says nodding. I raise my eyebrows at her.

"Oh yeah? You think that's bad." I hold up my arms and she rolls her eyes.

"I think an injured spine is a little worse than a couple of scrapes, John." She says, not looking the least bit impressed by my blood covered arms.

"What are you talking about? These are my battle scars." I say. Maren rolls her eyes but she's grinning.

"Oh yeah, I can't wait to hear you telling the story of how the treadmill almost took your life." She replies flatly.

I laugh and grab onto the elliptical, pushing myself up so I'm standing. I'm still a little dizzy from the fall though and immediately fall to the side, just catching myself on the machine to my left. Maren snorts and I try my best to look serious.

"So," I say, leaning on the elliptical. "Come here often?" She recognizes the cheesy pickup line from the movies and laughs.

"Yeah, I'm always here helping injured guys tie up their sneakers." She jokes. I smile sheepishly and she rolls her eyes. "No, I just come here for the punching bag." She explains, nodding toward the other side of the gym and only now do I notice that she's twirling a roll of tap around her fingers.

"Got a lot of pent up anger you need to work out?" I tease, arching an eyebrow.

"You have no idea." She says. Before I have a chance to ask what that means, Stanley starts coming toward us, the first aid kit in hand. "Speaking of anger." She continues as she looks toward him with a glare, he returns the expression. I feel weird between them, like I'm neutral territory or something.

"Anyway," Maren sighs. She gets up, dusting off her pants. "I'll be going, see you later." She says, quickly walking away just as Stanley arrives.

He passes me the first aid kit. I take it, shaking my head. I decide not to ask about what went on between them, it's probably something stupid anyway.

"Sorry I took so long, I had to explain to Jim what happened. Then it took him forever to find this thing." He explains, not really sounding sorry.

"Don't worry, it's cool. I'm just bleeding out here." I rummage through the box for some bandages.

"Oh, don't be so dramatic." Stanley snorts. "It's just a couple scratches."

"Yeah? I think the pool of blood on the floor begs to differ." I retort. I triumphantly pull a long bandage out of the box, it's still not big enough to cover the length of the cuts, but it will have to do.

"Well, who's fault is that?" He smirks. I clean the the cuts then put the bandage on, doing the same with the other arm right after.

We go back to the change room and get our stuff, deciding to call it quits so my arms don't get any worse. Stanley gives me a ride home, talking about my fall the whole way back. When he finally gets to my house, I can't get out of the car fast enough, actually forgetting my bag and having to go back for it.

When I walk into the house, Dad is sitting on the couch doing work on his laptop. He works at an accounting firm so he does most of his work on his computer. He looks up when I close the door, and has to do a double take when he sees my arms.

"Do I even want to know?" He asks.

"No." I shake my head. "No, you do not."

* * *

 **Please review, and if you have any ideas for future chapters, post them in the reviews or message me :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey, thanks for the reviews! I know I suck at updating but here's chapter 5**

* * *

 **Maren**

I stand looking into the mirror in my bedroom. I usually don't put a lot of effort into my appearance, not doing much with my hair and throwing on whatever is comfortable. Tonight though, I look different. My straightened hair flows down past my shoulders and I actually put some eyeliner and mascara on, having found it earlier in the deep recesses of my drawer. Marina told Riley and I that we had to come to this party she got invited to. Most times, I like to stay away from everything like that, it makes it easier to stay focused on my school work and sports and stuff. But, Marina seemed pretty insistent on my going, so here I am, standing up dressed in a nice shirt and jeans, one of the more glamorous outfits I own, which isn't saying much considering my closet mostly consists of sweaters and t shirts. Oh well, she can't say I didn't try.

I glare at myself in the mirror for a second before grabbing my phone and leaving the room with a sigh. Mom is working tonight, which I'm happy for since I don't have to worry about her asking about my sudden change in style. I didn't hide the party from her, she probably would've found out anyway, and besides, she sounded kind of proud when I told her I was going, like sending me off to a house full of booze and high school students is a milestone in my life.

I get out to the porch and shove on a pair on converse sneakers and a jacket, I head out and lock the door behind me. Riley's van is already in the driveway, she offered to be the designated driver so me and Marina could "live a little" in her words. She doesn't see me coming, looking down at her phone instead, probably still trying to persuade Marina to let her get out of going. Riley was more than happy to pick us up, but she doesn't actually want to be there. I walk up to the drivers side while she's still looking down, and pound on the window, hard. She doesn't jump, merely raising an eyebrow as she shakes her head at my attempt to scare her. She doesn't even look up from her phone. Riley doesn't scare easily, not for my lack of trying though.

"That attempt was sad." She puts up her phone as I open the passenger side door.

"I thought it would work." I shrug, sliding into the seat. I hook up my seatbelt and she backs out of the driveway. "Who were you texting just then?"

"Marina. She's still very insistent that I go." She rolls her eyes and I smirk at her.

"You better go. If I'm suffering through this, you are too."

"That's cute, you think you're going to be suffering at the party." She shakes her head. "Wait until the morning. Then you'll be suffering." I glare at her and she laughs, her mood turning around easily. She gets onto the road and presses a little too heavily on the gas, pushing me back against the seat.

"I'm not even going to drink that much." I reply as I straighten back up in the seat.

She looks at me doubtfully "That's what you think." I roll my eyes, she studies me for a second before saying. "You look nice." I glare at her, and she puts up one of hands in a surrendering gesture. "That's all I'm gonna say okay? God."

. . .

My eyes widen as I take in the house in front of me. It is massive, with at least two stories and what must me ten huge windows, or are those balcony doors? It's hard to tell. It looks like something a reality TV star would live in.

"Who's house is this?" I gape, barely able to take my eyes off it to look at Marina.

"Um, I don't know." She breaths, the same awe on her face that I assume is on mine as well. We take a second just standing outside the van, admiring the house from a distance.

"Well this has been fun, call me when you're ready." Riley says quickly, starting to walk back over to the drivers side door. She doesn't get far before Marina grabs her arm.

"You're coming." She orders. Riley sighs but doesn't object, probably aware that it's useless.

Three of us slowly make our way up the stone path, and my head is on a constant swivel as I take in the bulk and elaborate structure of the house. I can already hear the music coming through the heavy oak door, that also looks expensive as hell. I reach forward and press on the overly decorated doorbell. Seriously, who needs gold trim around a button? We wait for a few seconds, but nobody answers.

"They probably didn't hear it." Riley says, reaching forward and aggressively clicking the doorbell multiple times.

"Eager to get in?" I ask smirking.

"I'm just eager to see you drunk." She laughs. "Twenty bucks says she passes out in the van." She says to Marina, who laughs.

"Twenty bucks says she'll pass out before we get her in the van." Marina snorts. Why are they so sure I'm going to get loaded?

Before I can defend myself, the door swings open, making the muffled music clear and loud. A skinny guy stands in the doorway, I don't recognize him, I'm not even sure he goes to our school. He doesn't say anything and just walks away leaving the door open for us to walk in. I look to Marina for an idea of what to do, I don't know if someone opening the door, then leaving, is exactly permission to come in. Riley however, doesn't hesitate before walking past us and into the now empty doorway. Marina gives me a questioning look and I just shrug, following Riley into the house.

The inside is just as elaborate as the exterior, smooth creme coloured carpet littered in expensive looking modern couches and tables. There are two huge speakers perched on top of a stone mantle, busting out music at an impossible level. I can see people dancing in what must be the living room, and I can already smell the alcohol from here, although it doesn't even look like the party is in full swing yet.

"I'm going to go wait in the kitchen. Come get me when you're done." Riley yells over the music and starts to walk away, but Marina grabs her arm.

"If you really don't want to stay, we can go." Marina's tone is kind, although it's hard to tell because she has to yell it.

Riley rolls her eyes, but she makes it look friendly. "Don't worry about me, I'll be happy enough as soon as I get some chips." She smiles. "Now go drink something." She waves before walking inside the kitchen which I can see from here.

Marina looks at me and shrugs. So we go into the crowd.

. . .

I stand in the corner holding a red cup in my hand. A friend of Marina's got it for me a while ago. I don't know what it is, but it's brown and tastes terrible. Marina met up with this guy nearly five minutes after we got through the door, and I tagged along with them for a while, but quickly felt like I was the third wheel, even though Marina was doing everything she could to include me. Really, I wasn't even being left out, the boy was very friendly and smiley (a little too happy for my taste but whatever), and it didn't take long to get to know him, but I still felt like I needed to go. I feel like there's something going on between those two, whether they know it or not.

I've had about three drinks since I got here, nothing major, but enough to make my head a little fuzzy. I hate the taste of it but I drink it anyway. That's what you're supposed to do at parties, right?

I'm about to go check on Riley in the kitchen when I hear someone call my name. I listen closer but it's hard to hear anything over the music. It's a high possibility that I heard something that just sounded like my name. I go back to staring in my cup.

"Maren?" Okay, I definitely heard it. I look around but by now, the voice is right in front of me. I'm met with deep blue eyes and shaggy blond hair. John.

"Oh, hey." I greet him, a friendly tone coming across easily. It might be because I don't actually hate John, but it could also be because of the alcohol in my system.

"I didn't expect to see you here." He says.

"Why not?" I question him.

Suddenly he looks sheepish and he strains to from a response, his lips parted with nothing coming out, probably thinking I'm angry by his question. I smirk at his expression.

"Well, I guess I wouldn't really peg you to be the party type." He finally gets out, smiling sheepishly.

"Because I'm usually serious?"

He shakes his head. "Because you're sensible." Without thinking, I laugh at that. If he only knew the things I've gotten myself into because I was the exact opposite of sensible, he would not be saying that.

"So are you." I retort, not like there was an argument in the first place. The corner of John's mouth quirks up in a small smile, making me think my statement might not be so true either.

"What are you drinking?" He asks, ignoring my statement.

"Your guess is as good as mine." I pass him the cup and he looks at the contents for a second before shaking his head.

"That stuff is gross. Come on, I'll get you something better." He leads me into the kitchen and opens the fridge. Riley's gone, but there is a bowl of chips on the counter that I'm pretty sure was in the living room at one point.

I hear a fizz and John presses something cold into my hand, I look down to see a beer. "It's not good, but it's better than what you had." I take a sip. He's right, it does taste better. I notice he didn't get one for himself and arch an eyebrow at his empty hand.

"Designated driver." He explains.

"Oh." I say, looking down at the bottle in my hand. For some reason, it feels awkward to be the only one drinking while talking to him. "Well, my friend can give you a ride home." I suggest.

"Really?" He looks skeptical.

"Yeah, she doesn't drink. She was supposed to be in here but I guess she left. Anyway, she's around here..." I look around. "somewhere."

He shrugs, seeming to accept this answer. "Good enough for me." He grins easily. He has a nice smile. He turns around and grabs a beer out of the fridge. "Alright, lead the way."

. . .

"John." I yell over the music. I laugh as I realize he's standing right next to me so I didn't need to raise my voice that much.

"Yeah?" He asks.

"My cup is empty." I shake my cup in front of his face, grinning when he leans away from it. I don't remember the point when I got a cup instead of the beer, but here it is. John catches my arm with his hand that's not holding his beer, and steadies it so he can look inside the cup.

"No it's half full, with... what is that? Vodka?" His eyebrows furrow and he looks at me with what looks like concern. What? Why would he be worried, I'm having fun. Maybe it's not concern, maybe it's jealousy because he's drinking a beer instead of what I have.

"Whatever it is, I need another one." I turn away from him and search for the table with all the booze on it. I locate it in the other side of the room and grin, taking a lurching step toward it. It feels like the world is spinning, or there's an earthquake or something. Maybe there is.

"No, I think you've had enough." John says behind me, and before I can make any progress with my journey, his hand wraps around my wrist and he steers me back to him. The movement makes the clear stuff in my cup slosh around and some splashes out of the top, spilling on my hand.

"Aw, it spilled." I mumble, looking at the side of my hand to see the liquid running down.

"Maybe that's a good thing." John laughs.

"Why?" I ask. He smiles a little before shaking his head.

"No reason." He says. If I could keep a thought in my head, I would probably be wondering what his reason was.

I shrug, content to leave his answer at that. I look out onto the floor, everyone is jumping around and it's dizzying, or maybe that's just me. Without realizing it, I find myself leaning against John to keep myself balanced. I take another sip of my drink and cringe when it burns going down, but it leaves me feeling warm.

"You know, maybe we should go find Riley and ask if she's ready to go." John suggests, uncertainty in his eyes as he looks down at me.

"No." I whine. "I'm not ready." My lips feel clumsy and I hear my words slur on the way our, as they have been for the last hour. The small bit of sensibility still left in my mind agrees with John that I should leave. I quickly push that part down.

John chuckles. "In the morning you'll be wishing you left earlier." He says.

"Why?" I ask. "Wait, do you think I'm going to have a hangover?" I lean my head on his shoulder and crane my neck so I can see him.

"For sure." He answers, nodding.

I sigh. "Shit, I told Riley and Marina that I wouldn't drink too much." I shake my head, his shoulder pressing into my temple. "How much did I drink?" I ask.

"Hm, I'm not sure." He shrugs, my head gets jostled with the movement. "Obviously too much if you're using my shoulder as a head rest." He smiles at me and I laugh.

"Well, It's very comfortable." I say. "I'll give it four stars."

"What? Why only four? What happened to the fifth star?" He asks, looking offended. I smile as he goes along with my foolishness.

"It's over there with the drink you won't let me have." I wrinkle my nose at him and he snorts.

"Well in that case, I refuse to let you rest on it for any longer." He playfully pushes my head off and I sway on my feet, suddenly feeling cold without him next to me. "I can't have the reputation of my shoulder ruined by a teenage girl drinking _vodka_ of all things." He shakes his head in mock disgust and I giggle without thinking.

"Did you just _giggle_ , Maren?" John asks, his blue eyes wide with exaggerated disbelief. I try to glare at him but can't stop a grin from spreading across my face anyway. I'm aware that I'm acting foolish and stupid and not myself, but I can't control it or stop it. It would be like refusing to breath.

"Shut up." I say, only half joking.

"Oh perfect, now you're back to normal." He grins cheekily at me and I laugh, but frown after a second.

"I'm not usually very nice, am I?" I say.

John doesn't say anything for a second. "Not particularly, no." He admits. It makes me happy for a second, that he didn't lie to me like a lot of people would have. "But I think your heart is in the right place."

"That's nice of you to say." I smile, satisfied.

"You know, it's not a bad thing, to be a little blunt. You don't take people's crap, you stand up for yourself, take the lead. Those are good qualities." He smiles kindly making me feel warm. Or maybe that's just the alcohol. "You can't have everything. Nobody is perfect." He takes a sip of his beer.

"Aren't you wise." I tease him.

He laughs and shakes his head. "You know what? Let's get you that drink, maybe I'll get that fifth star."

I grin and he gets me a drink, saying it's my last. I don't believe him.

 **Riley**

I lean on the wall in the corner of the kitchen as the night stretches on. It's a little quieter out here, and for the most part, I'm alone apart from the occasional drunk wandering in from the living room, where the heart of the party seems to be. I can see in there through an archway when I lean a little to the left, but I don't need to look to know what's going on. I can smell the booze from out here and the floor gives off a steady thumping that can only belong to fifty people all jumping to the same beat. I look out anyway, for my own amusement more than curiosity. As suspected, half of my grade are out there, holding plastic red cups and making strange movements that I think is supposed to be dancing. I smile to myself when I see a guy spill his drink on the girl next to him, who pushes him in anger.

I offered to be the designated driver tonight, since I don't drink now anyway. After many bad experiences of waking up on beer stained carpets, throwing up for hours, and pounding in my head that didn't go away for a day, I resorted to never drinking again. That was a few years ago though, I'd like to think I've gotten wiser since then. Although sometimes I'm not sure. Luckily, Maren and Marina were smarter than me. So they still have their hangover days ahead of them. Although, I would be lying if I said I'm not scared to see what Maren is like with a hangover. As I'm watching, Maren appears in the archway. When she sees me she waves with a big grin, obviously having downed a few drinks. I wave back slowly, slightly shocked to see her like that, and she shoots me a thumbs up before disappearing back into the crowd. I'll guess I'll be seeing how she handles a hangover pretty soon.

I eat a chip out of the bowl I stole from the living room earlier. Everybody's primary focus is on the booze anyway so I didn't feel too bad when I took it into hiding with me a half hour ago. I told Maren and Marina to come get me when they were ready to leave, it's only 11:30 now and I've been waiting for an hour, not that I mind though. I've actually been having a good time watching my peers stumbling around and acting stupid.

Just as I lean away from from the opening to the living room, Marina turns the corner. She looks around the massive kitchen for a second before she finds me. She smiles at me as she walks over, a red cup in her hand.

"Hey." She greets me, leaning next to me on the wall.

"Hey yourself." I reply. "Enjoying the party?"

She shrugs. "Yeah, it's alright I guess." I raise an eyebrow at her and a reluctant grin breaks out on here face. "Okay, it's pretty amazing." She admits. "I mean, did you see the size of this place? There's a pool, with a waterfall going into another pool!"

I nod, laughing at her amazement but also barely able to contain my own awe at the lavish house. "Yup, it's pretty cool." I agree. I eye the brown liquid swimming in her cup. "What are you drinking?"

"Um..." She looks down in the cup also. "I don't really know." She concludes, giggling a little.

"Are you tipsy, Mar?" I ask with mock incredulity.

"No." She laughs, but I suspect she is because she's not embarrassed by the question like she usually would be.

"You're a little tipsy."

"A little." She repeats. I roll my eyes smiling. I'm happy she's having a good time. "Are you bored?" She asks suddenly. Wow, she's drunk and she's still thinking about other people.

"Not at all actually. This is hilarious, I should get some popcorn." I reply, gesturing to the living room.

Marina laughs, probably a bit harder than my comment warranted. I suspect the drink in her hand has something to do with it. "Are you sure though?"

"I'm sure." I say. She studies me for a moment, probably looking for signs that I'm lying. Judging by the state she's in, I doubt she would know if I was. "Marina, I'm fine here. Now go drink more of whatever's in that cup." I tell her, smiling reassuringly.

She laughs again, shaking her head. "Alright, I believe you. But I actually came here to ask you a favour." She takes a chip out of the huge bowl I'm holding, a confused expression crossing her face. "Wait, weren't these in the living room?"

"They were." I mumble guiltily. "Now they're not."

"Did you steal these from the party?" She asks, then laughs as she realizes I did.

"Didn't you have a favour to ask me?" I say quickly.

"Right, yeah." She murmurs, then pauses like she forgot what we were talking about. Suddenly, her expression clears and she grins triumphantly. "Yeah, does your van have room for one more when we head back?"

"If you can assure me they won't puke on my seats, then yes." I say. "Now go, have fun. Come get me when your ready, I'll be here." She still just looks at me, like she need to be reminded. " _Go_." I give her a gentle push back in the direction of the living room. She laughs and waves to me before disappearing back in the crowd.

It's weird being the responsible one for once, it's usually Marina. Now I know how she must feel all the time. I eat more chips while listening to the steady beat of the music, the bowl is big enough that I can get my arms around it, like I'm hugging it.

Eventually, my back starts to hurt from being in the same position for so long. I put down the chips and make my way out through the kitchen archway. The sound is almost deafening in here and I find myself hunching my shoulders like they could cover my ears and muffle the sound. God, I feel like an old woman. Instead of going to the dance floor though, I stay to to the sidelines. It's dizzying watching everybody jump around, so I skim the wall with my hand to keep my path straight, heading toward a doorway that leads away from the pounding speakers.

I keep watching the dance floor, I can't see Maren or Marina anymore, which either means they're swallowed in the crowd, or they wandered someplace else. I feel the doorway with my hand, and don't look as I step through. Or, try to step through. Right when I am about to head in, what feels like a wall hits me from the front. I go stumbling backwards. This is what I get for not paying attention to where I'm going, I chide myself. Before I can fall, two big hands wrap around my upper arms and jerk me upright again.

"Shit, sorry!" A rough voice cries. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good." I say quickly as I feel heat start to rise to my cheeks. "And no need to apologize, it's actually my fault. I wasn't watching where I was going and I didn't see you coming, so I just thought it was fine and..." I run a hand though my hair and look around to recover my senses, my eyes land on my saviour. Stanley Worthington stands in front of me. He's still gripping my arms as though I could still fall over, and he's smirking at me.

"Well, hello there." He says, letting go of my arms. He leans his back against the doorway I was trying to go into, still smirking down at me.

"Hi." I say. I stuff my hands in my jean pockets, suddenly at a loss of what to do with them. "Sorry."

His smirk grows into a grin. "No this is great. I was actually hoping I'd run into you."

I can't stop myself from laughing at the pun, I've always loved lame jokes, but usually I'm the one saying them. Only then do I notice the beer bottle on the floor, a dark stain forming around it. I made him drop his drink.

"Your beer." I say stupidly.

Stanley shrugs. "I was gonna go get another one anyway." I doubt that, because by the mess on the floor, it looks like the bottle was near full. "You want anything?" Before I can respond he shakes his head. "Never mind, I'm getting you a beer."

I'm about to reply with a respectful no when he starts walking purposefully toward the kitchen, and I notice that he's staggering a little. He's drunk like the majority of people in this room, it's probably a miracle he managed to catch me. Nonetheless, he walks through the crowd easily, people noticing him and moving out of the way, while I have to push through my peers to follow him. It probably helps that he's taller than most of them, people can see him coming, whereas even when I stand on my toes, the world is still just a mass of shoulders and heads. Being 5'6 makes a big difference in a crowd.

I finally get to the kitchen just as he's opening the fridge. He takes two bottles out and hands me one. I take it, deciding it will easier just to put it back after.

"So." He says, talking a little too loud, probably because he's used to talking over the music. "Enjoying the party?" His speech is slurring a little and I wonder if he should rethink drinking that beer he just got. He pops it open and takes a swig anyway.

"Yeah, it's really cool." I reply, deciding not to tell him that I've been camped out in the kitchen the entire time. "A little loud though." I admit. He looks at me weird so I try to backtrack. "I mean, I know parties are supposed to be loud, but it's just..." I trail off, not really knowing how to explain myself. "Not really my scene." _Anymore_ , I add internally as I finish.

Stanley looks at me for a second. "I know, it's weird." I say.

"It's not weird." He says simply, then grins. "Come on." He starts to walk out.

"Where are we going?" I ask.

"Somewhere quieter."

"That's vague."

He shrugs, smirking, and takes a step out into the living room, forcing me to follow or lose him in the crowd.

. . .

"So, what do you think?" He asks.

"I _think_ you brought me to a roof." I reply, looking around at the plain black shingles. I don't know what I expected, the house is definitely fancy enough to have a rooftop gazebo or something ridiculous like that. But no, it's just a roof.

Stanley laughs. "I did indeed. You wanted quiet, well here it is." I do have to admit, it's nice up here, barely any sound can be heard other than the music by the pool that I can now see is behind the house.

He turns around and starts to walk up to the peak. I do the same, having to lean forward to balance the incline. It feels a little weird, but Stanley walks it like it's almost second nature.

"So... I'm guessing this is your house?" I ask.

Stanley arches an eyebrow, looking back at me as he continues. "Yeah, you didn't know who's house you were coming to?" I shake my head. "Wow, do you make a habit of showing up at strangers houses or is this just a one time thing? Because that could be dangerous." He teases. He sits down close to the peak of the roof and I drop down beside him. I can feel the vibrations of the music through the house and I'm suddenly glad he brought me up here.

"Well, I have been known to be quite the rebel." I raise an eyebrow at him and he laughs. He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees, while I sit cross legged next to him.

"For some reason, I don't think that's the case." He takes another long swig of his beer and I put mine in my lap, forgetting I even had it in my hand. All of a sudden, the beat from the music gets louder. Stanley looks down. "Hm, I guess someone turned up the speaker."

"It can get louder?" I ask. He laughs at me, I ignore him. "So, how can you throw a party this huge without your parents knowing?"

Suddenly, Stanley's smile fades a little and he looks away. I get the feeling he isn't going to launch into a very happy explanation. I feel guilty at once, I shouldn't have just assumed he had a perfect home life.

"Sorry, you don't have to answer." I interject quickly. "I didn't mean to- I mean, I didn't think, it just slipped out. I shouldn't have brought it up, I didn't know, I just-" I shake my head. "God, I just assumed and you don't have to tell me, it's fine. Well, maybe not fine for you-" I cup the back of my neck with my hand and look down to hide my face, which I'm sure is bright red. I don't know what to say. I've probably offended him enough. "Sorry."

I look at Stanley from the corner of my eye, searching for any signs of hurt. But instead, when I catch his eye, he laughs. "You ramble a lot." He says.

"Really? Where'd you get that impression?" I say sarcastically.

"Well, there was that time in tutoring, then down in the living room, and-"

"It was a rhetorical question." I interrupt and he chuckles. He knew, he was just trying to embarrass me more. It worked, but it's not like I ever needed anyone's help to make a fool of myself.

"You find this funny." I say.

"Yeah, it's pretty funny." His eyes meet mine, I try to glare at him. Although I can't hold the serious look for long, looking away as I feel the corner of my mouth start to pull up. "Ha! You smiled." He points at me, grinning triumphantly.

I roll my eyes. "Whatever." We both sit in comfortable silence for a second.

"You know, I'm not offended that you asked about my parents." Stanley breaks the silence. "I could tell you. I mean, if you want to know _that_ bad." He smirks at me.

"You don't have to." I say.

"No, I will." He finishes the rest of his beer in one gulp and holds it with his fingertips while he talks.

Stanley tells me that his mother was Devektra. Devektra, the famous pop star. She died when he was young, in some type of terrorist attack on a club she was singing at. Stanley was only two years old at the time so he doesn't remember her. When she died, she passed on almost all of her money to Sandor, who's now a big shot lawyer that goes away a lot for business, thus freeing up space for Stanley to have his parties.

"Wow." I murmur once he's finished. "Sorry about you're mom." I don't know what to say really. He didn't even know her, what can you say? I didn't really expect the conversation to get that dark, especially since I barely know the guy. And I've never really been that great at comforting people.

"Thanks." He shrugs. He brings the bottle of beer he gave me to his lips, having asked if I was going to drink it halfway through his narrative.

"Well, at least you're probably good at karaoke." I cringe as soon as I say it. My natural response to sadness is to say something funny, like a joke could erase the pain of his mothers death. Stupid.

A surprised laugh comes from next me, and Stanley leans forward to put his head between his knees as he continues. I'm surprised too, I was not expecting him to laugh at my completely insensitive comment. It wasn't even funny. Even so, I can't help but smile in relief that he wasn't offended.

"I can't believe you actually just said that." He laughs through his words, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Well, you caught me off guard a little." I mumble. "I wasn't prepared for the conversation to go that way."

He grins at me, then sighs. "I don't usually tell people this stuff." He admits.

"Well you are a bit drunk, so that probably has something to do with it." I say, although I'm not exactly sure how true the statement is. He seemed pretty drunk down in the party, but ever since we got up here, he seems like a different person.

"Not drunk enough." He replies, turning the beer bottle upside down in his hand to show it's empty. "I'm going to go down and get more, you can stay here." He pushes himself up while I shake my head.

"No, I should probably head down too, Maren and Marina might want to go soon."

"Well, that's a shame. Here we were having so much fun." Stanley sighs dramatically and I laugh pushing myself up, but I lose my balance on the slope and stumble forward. I wouldn't have fallen, but Stanley's hand clamps around my wrist anyway, steadying me. "Wow, are you sure _you're_ not the drunk one? That's the second time I've had to save you tonight." He smirks at me and I roll my eyes.

"Yes, my knight in shining armour. How could I live without you?" I say flatly, starting my journey down the roof. He laughs behind me. There's a ladder leading down to a balcony, which I climb down kind of awkwardly, and head inside.

"What's this room even used for?" I ask once Stanley comes up behind me. The room is mostly empty, except for a few boxes dotted around the hardwood floor, and a balcony door I just entered from.

He shrugs. "Storage I think." He replies. He looks like he's going to say more but my phone starts ringing. I give him an apologetic look which he just waves off with a smile. It's Katerina, Maren's mother. I also notice that's it's 12:30.

She asks me if Maren can stay at my place tonight so she can go to bed, and of course, I agree. As far as I know, Katerina works a ton, she probably needs a break. Stanley and I head back downstairs, he grabs another beer as I search the crowd for Maren.

"Looking for someone?" Stanley's voice comes from behind me, suprising me with how fast he managed to get his beer.

"Yeah. Maren." His smile lessens once I mention Maren, but otherwise he seems unfazed.

"Well, you won't be able to see her from down there." He says with his signature smirk. "Follow me, I see her."

He weaves his way through the crowd and eventually I spot a head of raven hair, straight when we came here, but now tousled. Of course, she still looks annoyingly great, if only all of us had that talent. She's laughing about something the guy next to her said, and I can tell she's had one too many drinks by the way her grin doesn't falter when she sees Stanley.

"Hey Riley, where've you been?" She slurs once she sees me.

"Around." I answer vaguely, she doesn't seem to care and laughs at my response. I look in her cup and cringe. "Maren, is that just straight vodka?" I ask. I hear Stanley snort behind me.

"I think so." She mumbles. "It's good! Try some!" Immediately I shake my head, I've had it. It tastes terrible and burns going down.

"Katerina just called and it turns out your crashing at my place tonight." I tell her, ignoring her proposition. She grins.

"Like a sleepover?" I nod and she laughs. I'm not sure I like Maren this way. It unsettles me to see her this cheerful, it just doesn't seem right.

"Hey, Riley?" The boy next to Maren interjects. He has blond hair and blue eyes that look a lot clearer than Maren's. I recognize him as the guy I switched seats with in math. He's handsome. "I'm John by the way. Maren mentioned you might be able to give me a ride home?" It's a good thing my van can seat eight

"Yeah, that's not a problem." I smile at him.

"Thanks." He grins back at me before following Maren back into the crowd. At least I know she's in good hands.

"So, you're still going to be here for a while then." Stanley says. He arches an eyebrow and holds up three drinks all in one hand. I guess he's preparing for later. He grins. "Let's go."

. . .

"Okay, this song?" Stanley asks.

"Easy. 'Little Talks' by Of Monsters and Men. Released in 2011."

He shakes his head. "How do you have space for all of this information?"

Since talking to Maren, Stanley and I have migrated to the rail of his deck. Ever since I told him I have a freakish memory, he's been quizzing me on almost every song that comes on to see if I know them. So far, I've gotten them all right.

"I told you I have a weird brain." I shrug.

"Must be cool to just remember everything." He says.

"Sometimes." I reply, frowning as I remember some of the memories that won't fade.

Stanley doesn't notice my darkened expression and cheerily takes a sip of his beer, the other two empty bottles sit on the wide patio rail. There's no question that he is drunk now. He has definitely had five beers since we started hanging out, and probably more before.

"Wait, is that why you're so good at math?" He asks.

"Maybe." I've never really thought about my memory being factor in math since the numbers change, but I guess it makes sense. I suppose it takes a good memory to recall formulas.

"You know what?" He slurs, turning to face me. "You're a good person. You didn't have to hang out with me tonight, but here you are." He nods like he satisfied with what he said.

"Actually, I was just hanging out in the kitchen by myself. So you kind of did me a favour." Usually, I wouldn't admit to that, but judging by the way his eyes are sliding over me, he won't remember half of this conversation tomorrow so it doesn't matter anyway.

"That's sad, you're pretty, you should have been out dancing." He shakes his head and I snort.

"I should be out dancing because I'm _pretty_?" I ask, arching an eyebrow at him.

"Well... yeah." He says likes its obvious.

"Okay, you're more drunk than I thought." I laugh. "How many beers have you had?"

Stanley's eyebrows furrow like he has to concentrate. "Um... maybe?" I wait for him to finish his sentence but that seems like it's all he plans to say.

"'Maybe' isn't a number." I say and he shrugs.

"It can be." He mumbles quietly, like a kid trying to secretly get the last word in an argument. I shake my head at him, smiling all the same.

He leans heavily on the rail, and shakes his shaggy hair out of his eyes with a little more force than necessary. I have to admit, he's extremely attractive, wearing a t-shirt even though it's only ten degrees outside and I'm almost cold in my hoodie. Oh well, it shows off his toned arms, which is why I assume he chose to wear it. He's definitely arrogant enough to pick out an outfit for that reason. Still, I like him. Not in the 'like like' way as they would say it in middle school, but as a person. It's easy to admit that to myself here in the dark, with him not aware of what I'm thinking.

"Are you checking me out?" Stanley smirks at me. I hadn't even noticed he was looking at me. I would be embarrassed if not for his glazed, dark eyes that tell me he doesn't even know what he's saying, much less how I respond.

"Yeah." I say, watching him to see how he'll react. If he's surprised by my response, he doesn't show it, shooting me a lopsided grin.

"And... what do you think?"

"I think you need a haircut." Stanley's hand immediately shoots us to his perfect mess of hair.

"Holy shit, you're right!" He exclaims. I can't help but laugh at his obvious drunkness, if that's even a word. "Lets go then." He lets go of the railing and lurches to the side, I automatically grab his arm to keep him from falling. Although, I probably wouldn't be able to hold him up anyway.

"Maybe later." I laugh, pulling him back to the railing so he won't fall. He doesn't grab the railing, instead he stumbles closer to me, so close that the top of my head is almost touching his chin. I wait for him to move back, but he doesn't, grinning down at me.

"Hey." He says. Suddenly, I feel my heart speed up. I'm not sure why.

"Um, hi." My voice sounds tight, I wish it didn't.

I should take a step back back, he's drunk he doesn't know what he's doing, but I find myself rooted in place. His eyes hold mine.

"R!" Marina's voice shouts from the patio door. I snap my eyes to her and hurriedly take a step back from Stanley. She's standing by the house, grinning at me. "We should go. It's like two-thirty." She calls. "A.M." She adds, as though I couldn't have figured it out myself.

"Right, well see ya." I say, speaking to Stanley now.

"Bye... R." He laughs at the nickname. I roll my eyes and walk over to Marina. I feel his eyes on me the whole way over.

"Alright, to the van." I say dramatically, ignoring Marina's arched eyebrow and smirk. She's not too drunk to ignore what just she just saw, but she decides to leave it alone, not saying anything as we walk back into house.

It doesn't take very long to find Maren with the help of John waving to us. The crowd has dissipated greatly by now so we spot them easily.

"Are we leaving now?" John asks.

"Yup, the van is out front." I say. Maren comes stumbling over to me and puts an arm around my shoulder, leaning on me. "How much has she had to drink?" I ask John.

"Um, I don't know." He admits, smiling sheepishly as I half lift, half drag Maren toward the door.

We get out the door and Maren laughs as she almost trips down the walkway. I hear Marina talking to someone behind us, I look back to see her laughing with a curly haired guy, slowly ambling our way. That must be who she asked if I could bring home. I focus my attention back on Maren as she nearly falls and John steps forward to help me with her.

"She's going to have bad hangover tomorrow." I say to John.

He laughs. "That's an understatement."

"Are you talking about me?" Maren mumbles, blearily looking up at me.

"No, God of course not." I give her an offended look and she seems satisfied.

"Okay, good." She slurs. On the other side of her, John laughs.

When we get to the van, I tell Marina and whoever she has with her to get in first, since they both look more able bodied than Maren. The boy introduces himself as Joseph, and both him and Marina get in the third row of seats. John helps me get Maren in the back seat and she lies down across the seats. I do up her seatbelt as best I can while she's laid down and get in the front, John jumping into the passenger seat.

"Everybody have their seat belts done up?" I call and smirk when I see Joseph fumble for his in the mirror. "Alright, where to, Joseph?"

"Take a left up there m'am." He points forward and I step on gas, the car propelling us down the dark road. It's only now that I realize how tired I am. I yawn and shake my head to wake myself up.

"Long night?" John asks.

"Is it that obvious?" I reply, taking a left at the end of the road. I must take the turn a little too fast because John has to brace himself on the armrest to keep himself from hitting his shoulder off the window.

"Woohoo!" Maren cheers from the back seat. "Again!" Next to me, John laughs, looking slightly on edge.

"I'm a safe driver." I assure him. "Just, not the smoothest. Plus the van is old so it probably has a few problems." I shrug.

Johns eyes widen and I grin as he nods stiffly. "I'm kidding." I say, giving him my best reassuring smile. "Well, about the second part anyway." I see him visibly relax. "I mean the van is old, but it's in good condition." Which is true, it was mom's so it's at least eight years old.

"She's right." Maren puts in from the backseat. Not that her words are very reassuring at this point anyway. "Old Mavis here is... really good."

John raises an eyebrow at me and I shrug. "Joseph. Where next."

"Take a right." He says. I do, trying to go a little slower this time so nobody fears for their safety.

"You named your car Mavis?" John asks, amusement in his tone.

"Yup." I reply, returning his amused expression with a smile of my own.

He laughs. "Can I ask why?"

"It didn't feel like it was mine when I started driving it, so I gave her a name." I explain, deciding not to tell him that the previous owner was my now deceased mother. That would dampen the mood slightly.

"Oh, so it was used. You must have gotten a good deal."

I bite my lip. "Um, yeah I guess."

"Stop!" I slam on the brakes as a shout from Joseph rings through the car. We're all pressed violently against the seat belts and a chorus of collective groans can be heard from all of us.

"What?" I ask breathless, leaning forward to make sure I never hit anything and I just didn't know it.

"My house is here." Joseph responds calmly.

John turns around in his seat. "Seriously dude?" He scowls at Joseph while I pull off to the side of the road, thankfully there was nobody behind us.

Joseph mumbles an apology and undoes his seat belt. "Thank you very much. See ya." He winks as he closes the door and I wait until he gets inside to drive away.

"Did he just wink?" Maren mumbles.

. . .

I grunt as I try to pull Maren off of the backseat. She had fallen asleep and is now deadweight in my car.

"Come _on_ , Maren. Help me out a little!" I plead. I pull until I get her to the edge of the seat but I have to stop or else she'll fall out of the car. "Marina, can you come here for a second?"

Marina decided to sleep at my place too because Adelina wouldn't be pleasant if she got woken up at three in the morning. Now I have two cranky teenagers and an equally cranky older sister to wake up to in the morning. Great.

"Okay what do you want me to do?" Marina is now beside me, giggling when she sees Maren's state. I might not be getting much help from her either.

"Just, try to catch her back when I pull her down." I sigh, gone past the point of being gentle.

I grab Maren's arms again and give her a not-so-gentle pull out of the van. Marina tries to catch her back, but stumbles and ends up falling with her, but she must not be hurt because she laughs right after. Instead of being irritated, I just laugh with her, more out of hopelessness than anything. Although seeing them both like this is better than amusing, or at least it will be in the morning.

"R, can you unlock the door? It's cold." Marina whines once we get to the door.

"It's ten degrees out with no wind." I reply as I fumble for the keys in my pocket.

"Yeah, it is ten degrees."

"My point is, you're wearing a hoodie, it's not cold." I shake my head and open the door. "Okay, be quiet. Steph is probably gone to bed."

"Alright." Marina whisper-shouts. I send her a look but she doesn't catch it.

I drop Maren off on the couch as Marina disappears somewhere in the house. I drape a blanket over her and leave a glass of water on the side table for when she wakes up. I also put a bucket by the side of the couch, it's likely she will throw up and I will not let it be on the hardwood. I look around for Marina but I can't see her, which is pretty bad considering you can basically see the whole house from the living room.

"Marina!" I whisper, trying my best to be quiet.

I look around for bit before giving up, deciding she's probably in my room. Sure enough, when I open my door, Marina lies there, sprawled out across the double mattress. I think about the morning she'll have tomorrow. She'll definitely have a hangover not as bad as Maren's, but not a clear head either. Sighing, I grab a few blankets and pillows and set up a bed on the floor alongside my real one. She needs all the sleep she can get.

I regret my decision a little when I feel the hardwood floor underneath me, but when I feel my eyelids droop, I know I'm tired enough to get to sleep anywhere at this point.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading and please review!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey, thanks so much for the reviews, I love reading them!**

 **Also, I need to do a disclaimer for the movie 'The Conjuring 2'. I used it in a scene in this chapter, I did not make the plot line for the movie and all rights belong to the directors and whoever else was involved.**

 **Anyway, that's it. Read on and enjoy!**

* * *

 **Maren**

I wake up with a with terrible pain in my head, like a pounding on the inside of my skull so intense I fear it may split my head in two. Groaning, I cover my head with my hands and squeeze, hoping the pressure will somehow dull the throbbing. Of course it doesn't work, if I was thinking logically at all I could have known it wouldn't bring me any relief, but I find my thoughts hard to get past the layer of ache in my brain.

With a massive amount of effort, I roll over and press my head into a pillow, desperate to fall back to sleep to escape my pounding head and the nauseating feeling creeping up in my stomach. I fling my arm out in a futile attempt to get comfortable, only to find it drop and dangle off the edge of the mattress. Wait, is this a mattress? Not willing to open my eyes yet, I feel around the soft material underneath me. My hands find a gap between two cushions and I feel a blanket wrapped around my legs. This is not my bed.

I tilt my head to the side and reluctantly open one eye, my curiosity overpowering the headache. I'm filled with immediate regret when morning light shines into my eyes, causing the pain in my head to increase. I curse and shut my eye again until the pain tones down a little, then I slowly open my eye again, looking out through my eyelashes. It's hard to see through the limited view through my squinted eyes, but I manage. There's and table in front of me, a hardwood floor underneath it, and a small flat screen on the other side of the room. I close my eyes again, not needing any more details of the area to figure out where I am. This is Riley's living room.

I try to remember anything about last night, and at what point it was decided I would not be going back to my own house, but I can't seem to recall the moment. I assume the decision was made without me. Not that I mind, I would rather not be around mom like this, she'd likely tease me about my hangover and turn on the vacuum just for the heck of it.

Through the ringing in my ears, I pick out the sound of someone knocking on a bedroom door. "Riley, get up. I'm going to work soon." It takes all of my strength to suppress another groan at the voice. It belongs to Riley's sister, the only person that surpasses my hate of Stanley Worthington. Stephanie.

I hear thumping as her lazy footsteps sound down the hallway. I hear them get louder, closer. If sitting up didn't seem like such an impossible goal, I would already be walking out the door so I could escape her, but as of now, I don't see myself getting off this couch anytime soon. The footsteps stop.

"What the fuck are you doing here." It's not a question. It's code for 'get out'.

I don't respond, not giving her the satisfaction of an argument, but also too muddled to think of a witty response at the moment. Sadly, my silence doesn't deter her.

"Are you deaf, Maren. I asked what you are doing on my couch." She continues, pronouncing every word slowly as if I couldn't understand. It makes my blood boil. I open one eye, squinting at her with what I would hope she takes as malice.

The sad part is, Stephanie is actually really pretty, even when she's just gotten out of bed. She's the complete opposite of Riley though other than hair colour. Instead of straight hair, she has curly ringlets. Her skin and eyes are darker, and she's quite a few inches taller. Beautiful really. But none of that matters because her personality is complete garbage, she's rude and for lack of a better word, extremely bitchy. She wears a glare that would never fit on her sisters face and I find it hard to believe she shares the same blood with Riley, but life is weird sometimes, and so are cranky older sisters.

"I was sleeping. Are you blind?" It's a weak retort, but the best I can come up with considering the circumstances. Stephanie frowns even more than usual, like she's disappointed at the lack of fight I'm giving her.

"What's wrong with you?" She asks. She studies me for a second, then a look of mock sympathy dawns on her her face. "Ah, a hangover? Damn, that _really_ sucks. You know what'll help though?" She walks over to the side of the room and my eyes lose track of her, too lazy to move my head to track her progress. Suddenly, bright morning light streams into the room. Pain stabs my skull and I curse, burying my face in the pillow once again.

"Up and at 'em, girl." She says, I grit my teeth. I can practically hear her smirk.

"Fuck. Off." I manage, hatred racing through me at an alarming rate. She only laughs and I hear her heavy footsteps disappear into the kitchen.

I raise my arms and cradle my head in them, just laying there, not able to find the energy to get up and close the blinds, or curtains or whatever they have over the windows. I forget. I stay like that until I hear a second set of footsteps, these ones are quicker and quieter, the sound almost inaudible. Riley. I hear her sigh and when I open my eyes again, the light has dimmed.

"Water." She says when she walks past the couch. She looks tired but not unhappy, but she's not a morning person anyway so I'm not concerned. She looks at me expectantly and it takes a bit of effort for me to remember what she said.

She rolls her eyes a little and holds out a glass of water. The last clear liquid I had was vodka, so it's a relief to see something that doesn't contain alcohol. I still don't take it though, not being able to find the energy to physically take the glass from her hands.

"I'll... later." I mumble, closing my eyes again.

She sighs, her patience uncharacteristically thin in the morning. "No. You... now." She says. I still continue to lay there until her hand grabs my arm and she pulls my body into a sitting position, ignoring my groan of protest.

I force my eyelids up and look at her through squinted eyes. She sits on the table and pushes the glass of water onto my hands, which are a little shaky. "Drink the freaking water, Maren."

I roll my eyes and make a big show of drinking the water, I don't stop until it's all gone. It helps the nauseating feeling in my stomach, but not much. As if reading my mind, Riley points to bucket by the side of the couch that I never noticed before.

"You're probably going to want to throw up later. If you throw up in the bucket, you clean it out. If you throw up in the toilet, you don't clean out the bucket. Choose wisely." She explains flatly as she plucks the glass out of my hand, coming back with another one almost immediately. I raise an eyebrow. "One glass of water for every alcoholic beverage." She says wisely, then heads out to the kitchen, to make breakfast I assume.

Now it's too much effort to get back in a comfortable lying position, so I stay sitting, holding the glass between my two hands and taking a sip every once in a while. After a while, I hear sizzling and the smell of bacon starts to fill the house. I would usually be happy about the aroma, but it's my worst nightmare right now, the smell seeming thicker and more potent than usual. It fills my nose and the urge to vomit gets stronger. I try to suppress it by taking another sip of water but it doesn't help.

Marina emerges from the hallway, her hair is already done and it looks like she's borrowed some pyjamas from Riley. I make a mental note to ask Riley for a pair later, I'm still wearing my jeans and shirt from yesterday and it's only now I notice how uncomfortable they are. Marina looks at me for a second.

"You look like hell." She concludes, yawning through her words. I'm about to respond when my stomach decides it doesn't want it's contents anymore.

"Shit." I mutter. It's not hard to get up now. I shoot off the couch and run/stumble to the bathroom, pressing a hand over my mouth as I go.

I get to the washroom and drop to my knees, opening the toilet seat cover and leaning over it. How could I have been so stupid? And here it comes, along with the sickening feeling of vomiting. I empty my stomach's contents into the bowl and since I don't have any food in my stomach, it's pretty much all alcohol. I heave deep breaths as my headache increases and I can tell I'm going to puke again, and I do. This time when I lift my head, someone is holding my hair so it doesn't get in the way. Riley. After I'm done (I hope), she hands me a paper cup with mouthwash in it and flushes the toilet for me, taking my alcohol down the drain but only a little of my regret.

"It was Steph that started cooking the bacon." She tells me apologetically as I swish the mouthwash around my mouth. "At least it sped up the process." I spit the mouthwash in the toilet, the sink seeming too far away at the moment.

"Thanks." I say. It's not sarcastic but my voice comes out terse anyway, I'm not sure why.

"Don't mention it." Riley replies.

It's still dark in here, with no windows in the bathroom, and it's better than the living room with the limited darkness the curtains supply. I lie down on the mat she has over the floor, closing my eyes.

"No, you can't sleep here." Riley sighs. She grabs my arm and tries to get me up, each tug making pain stab my head, but I refuse to move.

"Can I have an aspirin?" I ask. She shakes her head. "I'm dying, R." I say dramatically as she makes little progress getting me out of the bathroom.

She rolls her eyes. "If you take an aspirin your liver will have to work harder and over time it'll get stiff and swell and..." She trails off, probably remembering that I don't understand biology. "You're better off drinking water." She finishes. I groan as she pulls again. "Come on, Maren. You don't want to lie down here."

"I do though."

"If you don't get up, I'll take a picture and send it to your mother."

I open one eye, squinting at her. "You wouldn't." I say suspiciously.

"Oh, but I would." She arches an eyebrow at me while I fix her with the most menacing glare I can conjure at the moment. After a few seconds, I sigh and resign myself to getting up. I don't want mom being all smug about the state I'm in.

I pull myself up, holding onto the counter and Riley's arm. Once I get standing I realize Riley is looking at me weird, almost smug.

"What?" I ask irritably. She just smiles and gestures to the mirror. I sigh and turn my head to look. My eyes widen. Is that even me?

The person in the mirror is pale, clammy, and red, all at the same time. Her hair is a mess and sticks to her face. That can't be me. _I_ don't have mascara and eyeliner smeared across my face. _I_ don't have red rimmed, dull eyes, and lips to match. It can't be me. Although she moves when I move.

"Holy shit." I murmur.

"Yeah..." Riley trails off with a chuckle. "Okay, how about you get in the shower, I'll get you a change of clothes, and breakfast will be ready when you come out. Good?"

"Great." I reply, still trying to comprehend the image of myself in the mirror.

How did I let this happen?

 **John**

My eyes stay closed as my phone rings on my nightstand. Who the hell is calling me at eight in the morning?

As I let the wails of the ringtone wash over me, I make up a short list of the possible callers in my head. The most likely to be calling me would either be Joseph or Stanley, considering I don't have a lot of contacts in my phone. Although, since it's a weekend, I find it hard to believe either one of them would be up this early, especially considering the party last night. Maybe it's dad, although he doesn't have to work today so he's probably home.

Finding out the identity of the caller isn't really an important thing to worry about, but I'm just wasting time so the phone can stop ringing and I can go back to sleep. Whoever it is, they can wait until later.

Finally the ringing stops and I let my mind drift off again. For a couple peaceful seconds, there is silence. My eyes snap open as the phone rings a second time, somehow sounding more annoying than the first call. Irritation bubbles inside me at the sound. I imagine a brief scenario in my head of the phone breaking into pieces from being thrown at a wall, my doing. The wailing would stop, and all would be okay once again. Of course I don't do that.

I pick up the phone and can't stop an exasperated sigh from escaping me when I see Stanley's contact. I should have known that he would be the only person inconsiderate enough to wake somebody up early on a weekend.

"What." I growl when I answer the call. I can hear heavy breathing in the other end of the line, almost sounding panicked. Concern spikes in me, but not enough for me to actually get up.

"Dude I have a huge problem."

"Its eight in the morning."

"I don't give a shit what time it is. You need to get over here ASAP." At that I sit up, rubbing my eyes to get the sleep out of them. I don't have to ask why because he quickly explains. "So I wake up on the couch right? And I have a terrible hangover, I threw up a couple times it wasn't fun. There's dark stains all over the carpet. The carpet is white, John. White."

"So? Just call the cleaning service or whatever." I mumble already lying back down.

"You don't think I thought of that? I already talked to them." He pauses dramatically. "Man, they're not working today. Something about a holiday."

I roll my eyes. "Okay. Call another cleaning service." I'm trying my best not to get angry with him, but it's hard. So hard.

"Are you kidding? Anyone else who steps foot in here is gonna go running!" The implication is clear.

"Dude get your ass over here, and pick up Joe on the way. Also, cleaning supplies." Before I have a chance to reply, Stanley hangs up. Probably to go google how to use a broom.

I take my time getting up and shoving on a pair jeans and a t-shirt, smoothing out my hair as I go down the stairs for some breakfast. Dad is already sitting at the kitchen table when I come in and I head to the counter, pouring myself up a bowl of cereal.

"Morning." He says, looking at me over the newspaper in his hands. "This is early for you to be up on a weekend." He raises an eyebrow at me skeptically and takes off his reading glasses, setting them on the table.

"Well, Stanley called and it seems that he is in the midst of a crisis." I reply, rolling my eyes as I sit down at the table with my bowl.

Dad chuckles and shakes his head. "How much of a mess is his house?" He asks, not even needing to guess the reason for Stanley's despair.

"He said it's going to be a three man job, if that puts anything in perspective." I shrug and eat my cereal quickly.

"Oh no, he dragged Joseph into this?" Dad asks, a sympathetic look on his face. "Poor boy."

"Which one?" I ask.

"Both." He says.

I finish my breakfast and brush my teeth and straighten out my hair. It's only now that I notice I don't have a hangover, and I quite thrilled to say the least. I smile when I think of the state Maren was in last night and imagine the hell she's going through this morning.

Strangely, when I think back on last night, I find a grin creeping up on my face. I shake my head to try and dispel the image of Maren's drunken grin from my head, but it doesn't work. Despite knowing she was drunk the whole time and she probably doesn't remember half the night, it was still the most fun I've ever had at one of Stanley's stupid parties.

The smile fades when I go downstairs and realize my car is still at his house. He won't be pleased to have to pick Joseph and I up.

. . .

"Okay so... windex?" Joseph examines the cleaning product in his hands like it's rare specimen. I laugh and he grins sheepishly.

"I don't care what it is. If it cleans stuff throw it in the cart." Stanley grumbles, examining his own can of something that sprays, it looks like bathroom cleaner.

After Stanley picked Joe and I up, he wasted no time getting us to Walmart, muttering something along to lines of 'stupid party' the whole way here. Of course, he has never picked up any type of cleaning product in his life, while Joseph's experience is limited, so as much as I avoid cleaning, it wouldn't be stretch to call me an expert compared to these two. After having to ask for help to get to the aisle, we scavenged through the shelves looking for anything that can take the smell and stain of alcohol out of the house. Between the three of us, we managed to collect about 35 cans of various products- which basically just means throwing in anything that says the word 'clean' on it -that are arranged in a not-so-tidy heaping pile in the cart. I'm actually quite proud of the accomplishment.

I hear a clank as Joseph tosses in his latest discovery, and Stanley throws yet another pair of rubber gloves on top of the pile. An employee walks past the aisle and has to do a double take when she sees the mountain that is the items in our cart.

Joseph notices her and greets her with a friendly smile. "Good morning!" He says, waving to her. She doesn't say anything and just continues her walk, ignoring this aisle completely. Joseph just shrugs cheerily, unaffected by her attitude. For someone with a hangover he's awfully happy.

Stanley is the complete opposite, looking up and glaring at us with dark, bloodshot eyes. "Are you idiots gonna help or what?" He snaps before turning around to throw something else into the cart.

"Not with that attitude." Joseph replies, smirking. Stanley just eyes at him with enough hatred to send Joseph back to looking through the shelves once again. Stanley seems pleased and turns back around to his own section. He said earlier that he took 3 aspirin to help with his hangover. Obviously it wasn't enough.

"You know, I think we might have enough stuff." I interject before Joseph is subject to _too_ much verbal abuse. Stanley looks at me like he looked at Joseph but I just shrug. "Seriously, I think ten cans of carpet cleaner will do."

"You didn't see the house man." Stanley says, almost looking scared.

I roll my eyes and start to wheel the cart out of the aisle. It takes a bit more effort than I would like to admit. "If we don't have enough, we can come back for more. It's not a big deal."

Stanley looks unsure, but Joseph doesn't waste any time before following me out of the aisle. Eventually Stanley comes too, although much more reluctantly. We continue our way to the checkout, some passerby giving us weird looks and a wide berth when they see the contents of our cart, and some nodding understandingly.

The checkouts aren't very full because it's a Saturday morning, so we don't have any trouble finding an empty one. The cashier- a guy maybe in his twenties- smiles at us warmly until he sees our cart, then the smile fades and a look a bewilderment replaces it. All three of us start to load the products onto the belt and it slides forward, the cashier desperately trying to check the containers in at the speed we're loading them on. Eventually he gets backed up and he resigns himself to doing it at a reasonable pace.

I load the bags into the cart while Stanley pulls a sleek looking credit card out of his wallet. It probably belongs to Sandor. I can't imagine he'll be very happy when he sees the bill.

"Alright, that'll be $228.78." The cashier says finally, sounding breathless after scanning everything through. Stanley shows him the card and the guy nods, telling him to put it in the machine.

Joseph smiles kindly at the guy, probably just wanting to apologize for Stanley's attitude. It doesn't seem to work, the cashier's look of confusion only increasing as he looks back forth between Stanley's bloodshot eyes and Joesph's overly cheerful grin. I feel bad for him.

Stanley finishes paying and I thank the cashier as we go, Joseph running ahead with the cart. The guy just shakes his head.

We load everything into Stanley's truck and it's not long before we pull into his driveway. We all shoulder at least 6 heavy plastic begs each and the scattered cleaning product that fell out of the bags.

"I really don't think all of this is necessary." I say to Stanley as me and Joseph make our way up the walkway. Stanley is already unlocking the door, the bags he carried at his feet.

"Yeah, well I know it's necessary." He retorts finally getting the door unlocked. He pushes it open before grabbing all the bags and heading inside. Me and Joseph go in behind him.

I open my mouth to reply but the words don't come, stopped dead in my throat as I look around the house. Calling it a disaster would be an understatement. There are red cups literally everywhere, few beer bottles mixed in with the mass as well. They litter the floor, the mantle, the furniture and anything else you can think of, dark stains crawling underneath them on the originally creme coloured carpet. Aside from the obvious damage caused by the unforgiving colour of alcohol, mud and dirt stains are also ground into the floor, giving it more of a brown shade than white. There are shirts and hats all over the place and even a lone sneaker in the corner.

"Well shit." I say. Joseph nods and Stan sighs dramatically.

"Alright. Dad gets home at two AM." He stares determinedly ahead. "Let's do this."

 **Marina**

"Okay... how about a comedy?" I ask hopefully.

Maren who sits on the other side of the couch wrinkles her nose disapprovingly. "No. Too happy." She replies, stretching her legs across two whole cushions so I have to curl up on one.

I sigh and continue scrolling down through the endless movie options, trying my best to find something Maren might approve of. So far, my efforts have been futile. It's now six in the evening and Maren is still in the worst mood possible, but I think the darkening sky is starting to make her a bit more pleasant.

"A thriller then?" I try again.

"No." Maren replies and I have to stifle a groan. "Too... loud." I watch her take another sip of water, oblivious to the death glare I'm giving her. Both of us are more than a little on edge today, between the hangover and the fact that I'm on my ninth glass of water, my nerves are running pretty thin at the moment and Maren's pickiness is not helping matters.

"A romance?" At this, she just raises her eyebrows at me, almost tired. I knew that suggestion was a long a shot, but she could have at least pretended to be interested. "You're going to have to pick _something_ because Netflix is running out of options." I snap, unable to keep the irritation from my voice.

Maren glares at me and I match the expression, neither of us budging on the matter. After a few moments of tense silence, she finally says, "Give me the remote."

I comply, heavily slapping the remote into her outstretched hand. I'm too tired to argue and frankly, fighting with Maren is a losing battle from the start so I don't even bother. I don't watch she's doing, closing my eyes to escape the incessant brightness of the tv. My headache isn't even that bad anymore, but my attitude is still far from happy.

I open my eyes as Maren chooses a movie. "The Conjuring 2". A horror movie, of course.

"Maren." I groan. She knows my dislike for the genre and smirks, which I'm pretty sure is the first time she's looked happy today.

"What, are you scared Mar?" She teases. I just roll my eyes and look away stubbornly, earning a laugh from her.

"Alright, did you guys chose something without killing each other?" Riley walks into the room carrying a bowl of popcorn so large she has to wrap both arms around it to keep it from falling. She sees the movie on the TV and her face lights up, although when she looks over at me she quickly conceals it, looking almost guilty.

Maren raises an eyebrow at her popcorn bowl of choice. "Think you got enough popcorn?" She asks sarcastically.

"Maybe."Riley walks up to the couch, eyeing the spot where Maren is currently resting her legs, obviously wanting to sit there. "If you don't move your legs you won't be getting any of it."

Maren makes an annoyed noise but moves her legs, letting Riley sit down with the bowl. Aside from the three person couch, there's one armchair in the living room, but nobody ever sits in it because it is the most uncomfortable piece of furniture ever. It looks nice though, the modern pattern a strange contrast to everything else in the house, which is either dated or cheap. Riley's sister picked out the chair.

The couch squeaks as Riley sinks into the cushions and Maren puts her feet up in her lap, the humongous popcorn bowl sitting on her legs. Maren picks up the remote clicks a button, the movie on the screen to coming to life. I sigh, making my displeasure known.

"Don't worry Mar, I'll protect you." Riley whispers, a serious look on her face. I roll my eyes and shove her with my foot, coaxing a laugh from her.

The movie starts off with a family, two boys, two girls, and their mom. They just moved into a new house and aren't doing well money wise, but they all seem content. The scene almost seems happy, but I know better. A few days later paranormal stuff starts happening in the house. _Surprise surprise_ , I think sarcastically, taking some popcorn out of the bowl that's now a quarter empty due to our anxious eating. I try to distract myself with the food so I don't have to pay attention to the building suspense on the screen, but it's intriguing and I can't help but keep watching.

A paranormal investigator is called into the house and things get unsurprisingly worse. There aren't really a lot of jump scares, just slowly impending dread, which is somehow worse. Eventually the haunting gets so bad that the family has to move in with the neighbours to avoid it. The neighbours have a dog and one of the boys wakes up in the middle of the night to let it out.

"Oh no." I murmur unintentionally when the boy opens the door and the dog doesn't move. The boy, maybe seven, starts talking to the dog, confused at it's sudden change of plan.

"Don't talk to it, run you idiot!" Maren hisses, biting her thumbnail. The boy moves closer to the dog. "Okay, that's it, the kid is dead. He's gone." Maren throws her hands in the air in frustration, shaking her head.

"It's just a movie, Maren. Calm yourself." Riley chuckles, glancing at her cautiously.

"That kid is going to get himself possessed." She mutters, reaching forward for another piece of popcorn.

The ominous music from the movie gets louder as the dog transforms into a giant disproportionate man with a wicked grin and sharp teeth. The monster towers over the kid in the middle of singing some children's song in a demonic voice.

"Okay. That's nightmare fuel." Riley says calmly, tossing another piece of popcorn into her mouth.

I watch the boy run from the monster, screaming and waking his family members as the giant finishes his song.

"Wouldn't it be funny if the power went out right now?" Maren says, smirking a little.

"No!" I reply immediately. I'm not afraid of the dark, but this movie is terrifying enough to make anybody afraid of everything. Or at least _I_ think so.

Maren looks like she's about to say something but a particular loud noise from the movie makes us both jump, and whatever words she was about to say turn into a curse. In her surprise, Maren jostles the bowl on her legs and popcorn spills all over Riley.

"Ugh, Maren." Riley whines, looking down at her shirt where most of the food seems to have accumulated. Maren bursts out laughing as Riley fixes her with a look of disapproval, and I can't help but let out a chuckle too as the action dissipates on-screen.

"Get your nerves in check." Riley chides, taking a piece of popcorn off her shirt and chucking it at Maren who still has yet to calm down from laughing. It lands on her shirt and she picks it off and eats it.

Riley tries to act angry but it's hard for her to frown even on a bad day so I know it won't last long. She eats the popcorn off her shirt and I reach over, taking a piece and popping it in my mouth.

"See the bowl. Feel the bowl. _Be_ the bowl." I say dramatically. Riley snorts, choking on the popcorn in her mouth and successfully sending Maren and I into a new fit of laughter as she struggles between coughing and laughing. Eventually she swallows the popcorn and shakes her head as Maren and I calm down to chuckling, the movie forgotten between the three of us.

"I could have died and you guys are laughing." She says. "You know what? I hope that dog-monster thing comes to get both of you tonight."

"You'd miss us too much." Maren grins, showing off a whole row of perfect teeth.

"Shut up and watch the freaking movie." Riley says, biting her lip to keep up her stern facade.

We all focus back on the movie as a second set of ghost hunters are called in, because apparently things are only now getting extreme. There are some possessions and some more jump scares, but Riley holds the bowl away from Maren's legs when those parts come on so no other disasters happen.

In the end, the girl who was being haunted the worst gets saved by one of the ghost hunters and they send the demon back to hell. So yeah, there goes my night of sleep.

"Well that was terrifying." I say when the last scene fades out. Riley and Maren don't seem fazed while I know I won't be sleeping for the next week.

"It's just a movie, you'll be fine." Maren replies, not seeming the least bit concerned and also putting me at ease a little. If it's not real it doesn't matter what happened because it could never happen anyway. The fact calms me.

"Yeah, I g-" I let my words cut off as the futures of the characters are explained in the credits. It's not fiction, this actually happened. Great.

"Oh." Maren says, looking at me cautiously. I glare at her and she has the nerve to smirk.

"It's okay, the demon is back in hell now." Riley reasons.

"That's comforting." I reply sarcastically and Riley turns away, probably to hide a smile. "How is this not freaking anyone else out? A dog morphed into a twelve foot tall monster and everyone just thinks it's fine?" I exclaim.

"Just don't get a dog and you'll be fine." Maren chuckles and I groan as Riley suppresses her own laugh.

"You guys actually suck." I grumble.

"Oh, you love us." Maren grins, causing me to roll my eyes in exasperation. I don't respond and Riley looks at me smiling almost apologetically.

"Well this exchange has been fun, but if you'll excuse me, I need to go shake the popcorn out of my shirt." Riley glares at Maren as she says this and gets up, dropping her legs on the floor. Maren tries to trip her as she leaves but Riley hops over her foot laughing.

When Riley gets into the kitchen, Maren turns to me. "Look, I seriously didn't know the movie was based on a true story. Sorry." Her earnestness surprises me and it takes me a few seconds to reply, shocked at her sincerity.

"It's okay, but if you try to scare me anymore tonight I _will_ kick you in the face." I threaten, she laughs.

"Noted." She says. "And don't worry, you can sleep with me tonight so you won't get scared." She smirks at me and I raise an eyebrow. We're sleeping at Riley's again tonight so we'd all end up in the same room anyway.

"Are you sure _you're_ not scared Maren?" I tease. She glares at me and shakes her head. I grin, knowing the movie frightened her more than she'd like to admit. She's good liar, but you can't lie to someone that you've known since kindergarten.

"Nope, I'm completely fine." She lies. "In fact, I think we should watch another one." Now I'm the one glaring and she's looking back with her signature smirk.

"Bite me, Maren." I grumble. She laughs, looking through the movies again despite my protest. It's going to be a long night.

 **Stanley**

I collapse on the couch next to John, peeling off my rubber gloves and throwing them lazily on the floor. It's now one in the morning and after seven cans of carpet cleaner, four garbage bags, five pairs of gloves, three cans of Febreeze, and a very thorough vacuuming job, I'm finally confident that we have everything cleaned up. As long as dad never flips over the couch cushions, checks the garbage bin, or notices the suspicious amount of cleaning products in the cupboard, I should be in the clear. Joseph come out from the kitchen and doesn't even make it to the couch, lying flat on the floor.

"Done." He breathes, closing his eyes as if to go to sleep. I can't blame him, we're all exhausted from cleaning the whole day and all I want to do is go to bed. Actually, that might not be such a bad idea.

"Thanks for helping out guys." I say, my voice breaking the tired silence of the house.

"Yeah, no problem. Bro code or whatever." Joseph mumbles against the floor.

"Did you just say 'bro code'?" John asks. His question is only met with silence, except for a ringing sound, but I think that's in my ears. We all stay like that, twenty minutes going by easily in the unbroken quiet reverie.

Suddenly, the door unlocks and I shoot up into a sitting position and grab the gloves I threw on the floor. Dad shouldn't be back yet, his plane was supposed to land at two o'clock and it's only one-thirty. Sure enough, it's him that comes through the door quietly, probably thinking I'm in bed asleep. John sits up too when he notices it's who it is and he waves so dad notices us.

"Hey Sandor. How are you doing?" He asks politely.

Dad shrugs and sets his keys down on the table by the door. "I'm a bit tired, I never got much sleep on the flight." He takes off his coat, eyeing me suspiciously. I put on my most innocent smile, which I'm not sure helps at all.

"How was trial?" I ask, trying to draw his attention back onto himself.

Dad just sighs. "Stanley, why is Joseph asleep on the carpet?" My eyes widen as I remember that Joseph is using our floor as a bed.

"Oh, right. Um... well..." I don't really know how to explain the reason for my friend being passed out on the floor, but I suspect dad has already drawn his own conclusions.

"Yeah, we were just leaving actually." John interjects awkwardly, getting up from the couch and nudging Joseph with his foot. One of his eyes open and John says, "Come on, we have to go. I'll bring you home." John pulls Joseph to his feet and helps him to the door. "Nice seeing you Sandor. Bye Stanley."

"See ya John." Dad says, smiling at him. As soon as the door closes, Dad turns to me with a calm expression, leaning his shoulder on the archway of the living room. He's close enough now that I can see the dark bags under his eyes and his slouched posture. He must be more tired then he let on.

"You look exhausted, you should probably get to bed." I say, standing up and hurrying towards the stairs. My stomach sinks when Dad puts a hand up to stop me.

"Sit." He orders. I know better then to argue and go back to the couch defeated while he stays in the archway. The way he looks at me is like he knows something already. My nerves spike and I anxiously await the lecture.

"So I was having my breakfast in the hotel this morning," he starts, scratching at his beard. He'd much rather shave it off but apparently people with beards are supposed to be more trustworthy or something, I don't know. He's a lawyer so I guess it makes sense. "and a notification popped up on my phone from the banking app I have." He continues, walking further into the living room with his hands in his pockets. Oh no. I know where this is going.

"Anyway, so I looked at it and it turns out somebody bought two hundred and twenty-eight dollars worth of cleaning supplies, from my card. Now I don't know about you but that seems pretty suspicious to me." He says it with mock surprise, but I know that he knows it was me. I don't interrupt though, not really wanting the questions to come sooner then they have to.

"I phoned the credit card company and they traced the purchase back to the Walmart here. You know the one about two kilometres from here? And they said if I didn't make the purchase, somebody must have stolen my card and somehow figured out the PIN number. As you can imagine, that was a bit alarming to me. They were going to launch an investigation, but I told them no because I had a pretty good idea of who it could be." Every word is perfectly spoken, perks of being a lawyer I guess. He's now only a few feet away, and looks down at me, eyebrows raised, waiting for an explanation.

"I'll pay you back." I say lamely, knowing that isn't what he wants to here.

"Oh, that's not necessary. I just really want to know why you needed all that stuff, then you can go to bed." He says lightly. I sigh and look up at him, he's smirking at me like he's almost excited for the explanation.

I take a breath. "Well..."

* * *

 **Hope you enjoyed the chapter, I put more POVs in this one but I think I'll just keep it to one or two POVs per chapter in the future. Nonetheless, thank you for reading and please review!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hey, thanks so much to everyone who read and reviewed, it means a lot! I figured we haven't heard from Navrina in a while so I put some in this chapter, hope you enjoy :)**

* * *

 **Marina**

English is one of my least favourite classes. It's not because I get low grades, my grades are actually pretty high, it's just because it seems that all of the creativity has been sucked out of everything. There has to be a reason for everything, when we read something we have to analyze it, and when we write we're asked why we chose to write it. God forbid something something be written for the purpose of enjoyment. I lean back in my chair, tapping my pencil on my desk as I try my best to tune out our teacher. My effort turns out to be futile.

"Okay so in this passage, the boy tells us that the curtains were blue." Ms. Green stands at the front of the classroom, speaking in her overly perky, high-pitched voice that makes me want to leave this class and never come back. "Can anybody tell me why the curtains were blue?"

The question is so stupid that I find it hard to suppress an eye roll. Of course, nobody answers and the class of filled with bored silence. Ms. Green looks around like she actually expects a hand to go up, but after a few moments even she admits to defeat.

"The boy observes the blue curtains so we can see his inner-conflict. Blue signifies sadness, and the curtains are a symbol of the boy's struggle to keep the sadness from reaching him." She explains. The class just stares at her in confused silence, some people glancing around with desperate looks at their fellow classmates, probably praying that they're not the only ones who are lost.

" _No_ , the curtains are blue because they are fucking blue." Maren mutters quietly beside me, shaking her head in disgust. I smile a little as she continues. "And the boy is sad because he is an over-reacting little piece of-"

"Maren!" Our teacher interrupts. At first I think she's going to scold Maren for her words, but instead she smiles warmly, unaware of what she just said. Maren curses under her breath and I have to hold back a laugh. "I'm delighted that you are contributing to the discussion, but could you say it a little louder so the rest of the class can hear?"

By looking at the expression on Maren's face, it's more than obvious she does not want to share her 'contribution' with the rest of the class. I'm not sure Ms. Green picks up on those kinds of things though because she just continues to look at Maren expectantly, her hands clasped in front of her.

I start to think Maren might decline, but after a second she speaks up. "I said that the boy observes that the curtains are blue because he happens to have eyes that are capable of seeing colour." She says, her innocent expression betraying her angry tone.

Half the class laughs, including me, while the other half looks in our direction with shock. I don't know why they seem surprised, they should have expected nothing more from Maren. Ms. Green is apart of the shocked group, her mouth open but nothing coming out. It's her first year in our school and probably her first year actually teaching in high school as well. The bells rings and saves her from replying.

"Uh... class dismissed." She says stupidly while half the class is already brushing past her to get to lunch. She hurries out with them, shaking her head.

I stand up and take my books off of my desk, fixing Maren with a pointed look. "That wasn't necessary." I chide

"I disagree. That was absolutely necessary." She replies, grabbing her own books. We walk out of the class and Maren looks around once we get in the hallway. "Hmm, I wonder where she went..." She says, a pleased smile making it's way onto her face.

"Probably to the guidance counsellor." I say, looking both ways before crossing the hall. There's so many people in the school that it requires the same rules as driving. "She seemed pretty traumatized, she probably needs some emotional support."

"Oh come on, it wasn't that mean." Maren protests.

"I don't know..." I say slowly. "I think you hurt her pretty bad. She'll probably go to therapy, I doubt it would help though so she'll probably just lay awake at night, trying to cry herself to sleep."

Maren snorts. "Wow, you actually made me feel bad for a second, then I remembered I don't care." She says flatly. I laugh and she pulls off to the side of the hallway and dropping her books in her locker and grabbing her lunch.

"Wow, how considerate of you." I roll my eyes as we make our way back into the hallway.

"Okay seriously, anyone who thinks blue curtains represent 'internal struggle' probably _should_ see a therapist." She says, shooting me an annoyed glance over her shoulder, making me laugh.

"What if she's colour blind?" I challenge, Maren chuckles.

"Then I actually would feel bad."

We continue to make slow progress through the halls until we reach the cafeteria. It's a pretty big room to hold the miles long cafeteria line, with a generous number of long, metal tables with attached benches. It's one of the best spaces in the building actually, natural light brightening the room through huge windows on the far wall, and plaques, pictures, and banners littering the light orange and brown walls. It would probably take about an hour to count every item on display, but believe it or not, there are more in the gym, some awards dated all the way back to 1975. Our school mascot, a lion, stands painted on the wall adjacent to the long trail of hungry students chatting loudly as they wait for their food.

Maren and I don't bother with the line, wordlessly making our way to the back of the room, under the window. It's a spot that took us a couple years to acquire as it is one of the quietest places in the massive room, and conveniently close to a garbage bin which Maren often makes a game out of throwing her food into at various distances. Each table can seat about eight people, maybe more if you don't mind squeezing, but our table only ever holds three. And I like it that way.

Maren sits on one side of the table and I go for the other, sitting down and trying to remember what I packed for lunch. I empty what's in the bag. A container with vegetables in it that is supposed to be a salad, but a rushed one at that. There's also an orange and a bottle of water. I regret my stupid lunch packing skills when someone at the table next the us sits down with a slice of pizza. It's really the only thing that actually tastes good at the cafeteria, unless you would rather eat a couple soggy chicken fingers or a burnt muffin. Everybody loves the pizza, and I would have it everyday if not for the fact that I costs four dollars for one slice. I'm not sure anybody can afford to have that everyday.

"Mar? You in there?" Maren waves her hand in front of my face and snaps me out of my pizza trance.

"Uh yeah." I answer absentmindedly, glancing back over at the food on the other table that looks much better then mine. "Did you say something?"

"No." She says, smiling in amusement. "You just seemed distracted." She obviously wants an explanation.

I roll my eyes. "It's not what you think, I was just looking at the pizza." She arches an eyebrow, a common expression for her.

"What pizza? And can I have some?" Riley sits down across me and next to Maren smiling.

"There's no pizza, but apparently Marina was stalking a slice." Maren explains, taking a sandwich out of her lunch bag.

Riley turns her expression into one of mock disapproval. "Again, Mar?" She asks as if I had done it before. "You're gonna get a restraining order if you keep this up." She looks into her own bag and laughs as I flip her off.

Riley takes out her food, Maren and her diving into more conversation about more random things that don't concern my supposed pizza obsession. We go through the usual lunch routine, talking, eating, talking about classes, talking about teachers, mostly just talking and laughing. It's the same routine everyday since there's hardly enough time to drive anywhere for lunch, but I don't mind. Everyone needs something constant in their life, even if it's as little as having lunch with the same people. I guess I can't complain about the company either.

Suddenly, I feel the bench move underneath me, just for a moment before it settles again. When I look, I'm surprised to see someone sitting there. I'm about to greet them with an awkward 'hi' until I notice the curly mess of dark hair and bright green eyes.

"Hey." Joseph says, waving to my two best friends, who look a little startled at the new development. Riley quickly hides her surprise and greets him back, but Maren just looks on with curiosity. "Is it cool if I sit here?" He asks politely.

"Yeah, of course." Riley replies, looking slightly curious but masking it better than Maren who openly stares at Joseph. He seems unaware of her look, which is fortunate.

After a pause Riley starts talking again, and I hear Maren respond. I'm not listening though because now Joseph has turned his gaze to me and I'm too busy wracking my brain for something to say to pay attention to anything else.

"Hey." He says again. "I hope you don't mind that I came over here."

"Oh no, it's great." I reply, then inwardly cringe at my eagerness. Thankfully, he doesn't seem to notice and his lips just turn up into a bigger smile.

He stays silent for a couple seconds, like he's thinking about how to phrase something. Finally he says, "I'm assuming you know about the French test on Wednesday?"

"Yeah." I say nodding. "Why, do you need the study guide or something?"

"No, no. I have that." He replies quickly, shaking his head. "But I do have one problem." I raise my eyebrows as I notice his confident grin has disappeared, replaced by a more sheepish smile. He almost seems nervous, but that can't be right. "So, I hope this isn't asking too much, because you already taught me to skate and you tolerated me at the party..."

"What is it?" I ask, struggling to keep too much curiosity from my tone.

"Well about the review guide; I can't read it." He says, looking embarrassed.

"So... you want me to translate it for you?" I guess.

"Well, no." He scratches the back of his neck. "I mean, if I don't understand the review then how can I understand anything I'm supposed to study? I just- I know you're good at French and..." he trails off again.

"Just spit it out, Joseph." I say, laughing a little so it won't sound rude.

He raises his eyebrows. "Hm, demanding." He observes, although he seems more relaxed. "Okay, I wanted to ask you if you could come over to my place and maybe tutor me a little of you want." He looks at me hopefully then adds, "Please."

I chuckle. "Okay sure." He grins, looking relieved. "Why was that so hard for you to say?" I ask. By the way he was asking, I thought he was going to say something a little more extreme then studying.

Joseph sighs. "Well, I figured that you had already taught me how to skate and then we hung out at the party, and..." he trails off, back to his normal attitude now. "If it's any consolation, it sounded a lot better when I planned it in my head." He shrugs and I laugh. "So yeah, anyway, just meet me outside the school and I can give you a ride. Now that we've established I'm not a serial killer." I roll my eyes when he says the last part and he chuckles, both of us remembering the conversation from class.

"Oh wait." I say, suddenly remembering about Ella home alone. "You'll have to come over to my house because I need to cook supper." Honestly, Ella is old enough to be home alone, but mom gets home late today and I don't want her by herself the whole day.

"Ah, meeting the family already I see." He says smoothly, even winking at me at the end, causing my face to heat up.

"Only partially." I counter smiling.

"One step at a time Marina of the sea, we don't want to move too fast." He says. My eyebrows raise at his words and his grin increases. I don't know how to reply, but thankfully someone calls his name at another table. "Duty calls. See you later, Sea Queen." He gets up and smoothly steps over the bench, walking over to the table that called his name. I notice that John and Stanley sit there along with some other guys that I recognize as other hockey players.

I turn from the jock table to immediately be met by Riley and Maren, the latter blatantly staring at me, an obvious teasing smirk on her face. Riley at least tries to act casual about it, but her efforts are pointless.

"I knew it." Maren says. She leans forward, her half-eaten sandwich apparently forgotten. "I had suspicions at the party but now I know."

"He's a _friend_." I stress. Of course, Maren isn't fooled and rolls her eyes, while Riley sends me a sympathetic look but can't keep the smile from her face either.

"Nope, sorry Mar. That is incorrect." Maren says. I feel heat rise to my cheeks and silently pray it's not too noticeable. I suspect it is so I look down at the table.

"Did he call you 'Sea Queen'?" Riley asks, unable to keep herself out of this.

"It's a long story." I say, looking up and subjecting myself to the interrogation. I anxiously glance at the clock and see that there's still ten minutes left to lunch. I wish time would go faster.

"Oh, I bet it is." Maren drawls. I'm positive that the red on my face is noticeable now, if not attention grabbing.

There's silence for a second until Riley says, "Okay, so you like him." She points out the obvious. "Which isn't really unreasonable. I mean, just look at him. He's..." she trails off, they both turn to the table he's sitting at and I close my eyes as they make the most obvious display of watching someone ever.

"I think we should wave." Maren says. My eyes snap open.

"Do not." I warn, horrified. Riley bursts out laughing and I notice Maren's teasing smirk.

"Come on, I'm not crazy, 'Sea Queen'." She says, her voice going deeper at the nickname, which I think is supposed to be an impression of Joseph. Without thinking, I smile, earning another eye roll from Maren.

"You better like him a lot Marina, because I'm pretty sure that boy is ready for marriage." Riley chuckles. I roll my eyes, feeling more comfortable now that they have some of their focus off me.

"Haha." I say sarcastically. "Look, he just sees me as a friend." I explain, albeit a little disappointed.

"Right." Maren scoffs. "He was excited to meet your family. Face it Mar, he wants your kids."

"Okay, that's a little extreme." Riley interjects but Maren ignores her and keeps talking.

"He said he wants to take things slow, you taught him to skate- which we'll talk about later - he even has a freaking nickname for you!" She says. "How could you not know he has a thing for you?"

"He doesn't-"

"Shut up, yes he does." She interrupts. I sigh and roll my eyes, but she smirks, knowing she's won.

"Okay." I admit. "So what do I do now?" I ask, honestly needing help.

"Use protection." Riley says casually. My eyes widen and I can't help the shocked laugh that comes from my mouth. Meanwhile on the other side of the table, Maren has to spit out the piece of sandwich she had in her mouth to keep from choking on it. "I want to clarify that that was a joke." Riley says through laughter. "Don't do the nasty, Mar." I'm sure by now my face is beat red, but another laugh escapes me again anyway.

"Did you just call sex 'the nasty'?" Maren shakes her head, barely able to get the words out. "Who does that?"

"I can call it what I want." Riley shoots back, still chuckling.

"Marina, listen to me okay? Not her." Maren points at Riley, trying to be serious now but not quite managing to stop the laugh from reaching her voice. "She's clearly delusional."

"Hey, I said it was a joke!" Riley protests, Maren shakes her head disapprovingly, putting a hand in front of her face as if to silence her.

"Okay, this is what you do." She starts as Riley pushes her hand away.

"Yes Marina, listen to the voice of wisdom." She says sarcastically, rolling her eyes. I laugh and Maren sends us both glares of mock annoyance.

"What you do is you bring the boy to your house, you teach him French, get Ella's approval, then he leaves." She shrugs. "If he's really interested, he'll ask you out again."

"That simple huh?" I ask, arching an eyebrow.

Maren nods, sure of herself as always. "Alright, so I'm guessing you don't need a ride home now?" She asks.

"I guess not." I say, automatically glancing back at Joseph's table. It's at this point he decides to look up as well and excitedly waves when he sees me looking. I can't stop a smile from spreading across my face as I wave back and I turn back to the my food.

Maren smirks at me. "Ah, young love."

. . .

"I've always liked the colour red." Joseph muses as we hop out of his car. Of course, he's talking about the colour of my house. Honestly, I've never really liked the shade, it's a dark crimson with white trim, in my eyes it had never seemed light enough. Although, when I see Joseph grinning as we walk up to the door, I can help but think it may not be too bad.

"It must be fate." I joke, digging around in my bag for my keys.

"You believe in fate?" He asks me as I continue my struggle to locate the keys. They must be at the bottom. My eyebrows involuntarily pull together in confusion.

"Um, well I guess I don't know. It's just a thing people say." I reply, finally finding a keychain and pulling it out along with the rest of the set.

"Well I do." Joseph states as I unlock the door. "I don't think anything ever happens for no reason."

I shrug and push the door open, walking inside. "That's an interesting theory."

He arches an eyebrow. "So you don't believe in fate." He says.

If anyone else said that it would sound like an accusation, but he just says it friendly, like he's genuinely curious, which I guess is different. So when I answer, I'm not afraid I'll offend him.

"Maybe not." I admit. "But it's good that you do. Everyone has to believe in something." I hold out my hand to take his bag but he shakes his head and gestures for me to move on.

"So what do you believe in?" He asks. The floor changes from hardwood to ceramic as we cross into the kitchen. I don't respond right away, his question setting off something I never thought about before. What do I believe in?

"I don't know." I admit after a second.

"Give it time, you'll figure it out." Joseph says confidently, coaxing a smile out of me.

I don't give his question anymore thought as I pull out a chair at the kitchen table, the only place I've deemed study worthy at the moment since I don't really want to bring him up to my room.

"So this is where the magic happens." He says, gesturing dramatically to the table.

"I guess?" I laugh. We sit down and he pulls out his notes. He puts the review sheet on top and I giggle at huge question mark he has drawn over everything.

"So is there anything you know already?" I ask. His eyes light up and he confidently points to one of the sentences.

"I know what that means." He states proudly.

"Okay good, do you know any other sentences?"

His eyebrows furrow in confusion for a second before a light blush comes up on his cheeks, hardly noticeable because of his dark skin tone. "I meant that I know the word, not the whole thing." He says and I realize he was only pointing at one word not the whole question. He smiles tightly, clearly embarrassed.

"Oh sorry." I say, giving my best apologetic smile, but it's hard now that I'm starting to worry about how I'll be able to teach him two weeks worth of material in a matter of a few hours.

Before he can say anything else, I hear the unmistakable sound of a bus pulling up outside the house. Ella gets out of school only about fifteen minutes after me, which is pretty convenient. Joseph leans to the side so he can look out the window then turns to me.

"Is that your sister?" He asks.

"Yeah." I answer and watch her get off the bus, waving to somebody as she makes her way down the stairs. She's unsurprisingly popular at school.

I keep my eyes on her as she crosses the road and eventually makes her way to the walkway leading up to the door. Some may call me overprotective but I like to see it as as a healthy type of careful. She opens the door, that I purposely leave unlocked for her, and immediately spots me and Joseph in the kitchen.

"Hey El, how was your day?" I ask.

"Good I guess." She replies, shooting me a raised eyebrow and smirk as she obviously looks back and forth between Joseph and I.

"Do you want something to eat?" I ask, diverting her attention away from said boy.

"Sure." She says, then hastily adds, "Please."

I smile and get up, going for the strawberries in the fridge. I know she could get it herself, but I feel better when I do things like this for her. Like I can help her have the childhood I had instead of one with a mother who doesn't care and a grave to talk to instead of a dad. It's not a good reality, but I'll help anyway I can.

"Hi!" I hear Joseph speak up and turn around to see him reaching his hand out for her to shake. "I'm Joseph, and you are?"

Ella smiles cutely and puts her small hand into his larger one. She has a little farther to go until she dives into the wonderful world of being a hormonal adolescent, which I'm thankful for, but she still doesn't look like a little girl, even next to Joseph.

"Ella." She says, shaking his hand.

"It's very nice to meet you Ella, your sister was telling me about you." I roll my eyes as he winks at me but can't stop the smile on my face.

"Really?" Ella asks, her light eyebrows furrowing as she looks at me. She walks over and sits on the counter, right beside the fridge.

"I told him that you existed." I say, sending a look at Joseph as I pull the strawberries out of the fridge, along with the whipped cream. Ella grins when she sees the latter. "I didn't really go into details."

I put the strawberries on the cutting board and start to cut the leaves off them, knowing Ella hates having it there. She gets bored of watching me and hops off the counter, ambling towards the table.

"What are you guys doing?" She asks, peering down at the papers covering the wooden surface.

"Marina is teaching me French." Joseph replies, looking down at the notes also, mimicking her confused expression. She started French in grade four but she is still only learning the basics.

"Gross." Ella says, wrinkling her nose.

"Right?" Joseph shakes his head and I roll my eyes at both of them.

"French is actually supposed to be easier then English." I say, starting to put the fruit in a bowl.

"Yeah well you're a nerd." Ella replies. I send her a mock glare and I can see Joseph trying not to laugh.

"You better watch what you say, she has a knife you know." He warns from the table. Ella widens her eyes jokingly and I laugh, going back to getting her snack ready, putting lots of whipped cream on top of the strawberries. In my mind, the berries cancel out the unhealthiness of the cream so technically it's a balanced meal.

She takes the bowl just after I finish and smiles up at me. "Thanks Mar, love you!" She says, already halfway out of the kitchen. "See ya Joseph." She adds as she passes him quickly.

"Bye, nice meeting you." He smiles kindly. I hear Ella go up the steps and I put away everything I had out. Once that's done I go back over to Joseph and sit down, more focused now that I know there won't be anymore distractions.

"Alright, shall we?"

He grins. "We shall."

I start with the fist question which translates to 'how old are you?' Pretty basic stuff really. It turns out that Joseph knows about one word in that sentence so I try to explain what each word is as best I can. By the blank look on his face, I'm not sure it works. Next, we go over sentence structure and I show him how how to properly answer a question. We go through the whole review guide like this and I'm relieved when we circle back to the first one and he actually has some clue on what it means and how to answer it. Teaching him also helped me remember too so I guess we both benefitted.

"Alright, I think you've got it down." I say proudly once we've gone through every question twice. Joseph beams with pride and holds up his hand for a high five. I roll my eyes but do it anyway.

"Looks like you're better at giving French lessons than skating ones." He says smirking. I notice his teeth are perfectly straight and white against his darker skin tone. His emerald green eyes match the brightness of his smile with a playful glint of their own.

"We're gonna ace this test!" He says excitedly, then seems to reconsider. "Well, you're going to ace it and I'm not going to fail!" He corrects. I laugh at his enthusiasm.

"You're going to do great." I tell him, smiling encouragingly. He shocks me when he sobers up and looks in my eyes seriously.

"All because of you." He says, surprising me by wrapping his arms around me in a hug. He's just full of surprises today. At first I remain still, not sure what to do. Then I gingerly wrap my arms around him and pat him on the back. "Thank you, Marina." He says earnestly.

I jump back as I hear a car door slam outside, when I look out the window I see mom coming in. I turn my head to the clock on the stove. It's only 5:00, she shouldn't even be home. I rush over to the table and hurriedly try to pile up all the papers, knowing mom won't like to see the kitchen table in this state. Joseph unquestioningly jumps to help me, most likely sensing the urgent situation.

"Is that your mom?" He asks as I hold open a binder for him to stuff some notes in. He does so and I nod but don't say anything. He doesn't ask anything else.

Mom comes in through the door just as we put the last piece of paper into the book and close it. She kicks off her shoes.

"Hey, I thought you were supposed to be home later?" I ask tightly.

"Boss let us off early." She replies. She takes off her coat and looks in my direction, her eyes narrowing when she sees Joseph. "Who's this?" I can tell by her tone that she's in no mode for introductions, but of course, Joseph just smiles and starts to walk over.

"Hi, I'm Joseph! Nice-"

"Marina?" She interrupts him, setting me with a hard look.

I grab his arm and pull him back before he can take another step. "He was just here to study and actually on the way out."

Joseph nods to her, sensing that arguing would not turn out well here, but when he looks at me, confusion and concern are portrayed in his eyes. "Sorry." I whisper. "We should pack up your stuff." I say louder so mom can hear.

He grabs his binder off the table and fumbles with stuffing it in his School bag, giving mom a chance to continue our lovely conversation. "You never asked if you could have a friend over." She says accusingly.

"Well, I didn't think it would matter since you were supposed to get home later and he would have been gone." I'm not usually one to back down from mom, but I don't really want to fight right now with Joseph next to me and Ella just upstairs.

"So you were planning to hide this from me?" She folds her arms on front of her and steps into the kitchen.

I'm about to reply but Joseph steps out from behind me, putting his body slightly between my mother and I. "It's my fault Miss Teressa. I practically begged Marina to help me with this and she was kind enough to teach me for a couple of hours, so don't blame her." He apologizes.

Mom's eyebrows raise in surprise at the scene. "Oh don't worry, I'm not just blaming Marina." She says coldly. I see Joseph tense up and quickly put a hand on his arm so he'll look down at me.

"You should go." I say quietly so only he'll hear. He shakes his head stubbornly.

"I don't think I should leave you with-"

"I'll be fine." I assure him, although my heart does warm at the thought of him wanting to protect me, even though it's not necessary. He clenches his jaw for a second and I can tell he's debating wether to argue with me. "Go."

He takes a breath and with one last look, he grabs his bag and walks out of the kitchen. I follow him out and grab his coat for him off the hanger by the door. He takes it from me a little roughly, his face uncharacteristically angry. But I can tell he's not angry at having to go, he's mad at how my mother is talking to me.

"Alright well, see you." I say, prompting his leave.

"Thanks again." He says opening the door. He casts one more look at my mom before leaning down and kissing my forehead. I let him. I don't know what this is, but I don't want to ruin it. He pulls back and whispers, "Be careful." Then he's gone, leaving me stunned.

I turn back to my mother who was silently watching the exchange, a scowl on her face. "So, is that your boyfriend or something?" She asks, but her voice sounds like a growl.

"I don't know, but I don't see why _you_ would care." I snap, having less reservations about what I say now that he's gone. I'm still holding my tongue a little though because of Ella.

"I care because I don't want strange people coming into my house." She retorts. I roll my eyes and walk over to the fridge to get some ingredients for supper. "Don't roll your eyes at me young lady." She warns.

"Well it's too late now isn't it?" I take out what I need and slam the fridge door a little harder then necessary, I don't care though.

She snorts. "You always were the mouthy one." She says. I clench my jaw to keep from replying too loud.

"I wonder where I got that from." I mutter under my breath. She still hears me and comes up next to me.

"You should watch what you say or that boyfriend of yours might not be allowed to come back."

"You make it seem like he was allowed here in the first place." I scoff. If someone could chop lettuce angrily I'd be doing it.

"Well maybe if you had asked-"

"If I had asked the answer would still be the same." I interrupt before she can try to tell me otherwise. I don't look at her behind me. I don't want to see the detachment in her eyes. To her, this argument doesn't even matter, she probably won't even remember it in the morning.

I need to get the salad spinner bowl thing, but she leans on the cupboard it's in. I stand in front of her for a second before she makes it obvious I have to tell her. "I need a bowl." I get out through clenched teeth.

"Get it then."

I sigh heavily, rolling my eyes at her pettiness. I desperately wish she would go back to the way she was before dad died, if not for me then for Ella. I look at her, senselessly searching for a fragment of something in her expression that tells me she's still in there. Her eyes are cold and hard, like steel. I find nothing.

"You know what? Everyone else has come to terms that he's gone, you should too." I whisper bitterly. The words shock her. She blinks at me, I see something flicker in her eyes for a second but she hides it as soon as it comes. She's an expert at putting up the mask now anyway.

"Oh, I came to terms with that a long time ago." She growls. "I'm doing what he would want. Working, raising two of you the best I can."

"Right." I resort to pushing past her to open the cupboard. I find the bowl after a bit of fumbling, my fuming emotions making my movements fast and more uncontrolled then I would like.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Mom challenges once I stand up straight again. "I'm raising you guys the way he would have wanted."

I slam the bowl down hard on the counter, making her flinch. "Dad would have wanted you to treat us like shit?" I snap, but quickly lower my voice. Useless really, Ella has probably caught on by now anyway.

She stares at me, silently fuming in her own little world of ignorance. I stare back, forcing myself to look into her eyes, full of hurt and anger. I'm not fooled. She's not hurt by what I said, she probably didn't even comprehend it.

"Ella is twelve. She needs more then a sister right now." I plead anyway. "She needed more then a sister two years ago. Where were you?"

Mom clenches her jaw and I can almost see her pushing my words away. "I was right here, Marina." She practically shouts.

"No you weren't." I whisper tersely, my voice threatening to break.

She snorts. "Why are you even pretending to keep this from her?" She gestures wildly in the general direction of Ella room. "You think she doesn't know? She's not a little girl anymore, she can handle it!"

"She shouldn't have to!" My voice finally rises to a strangled shout. I feel my heart beat, pounding faster with every second I struggle to keep my temper back. We haven't gotten into an argument like this since a few months back, things got ugly and I eventually took Ella and left, coming back a few hours later when we were sure Mom had fallen asleep.

"Yeah, well life isn't just sunshine and rainbows is it?" She spits. She steps closer, I can see the age in her face. Dark circles under her eyes and frown lines in the corners of her mouth. I'm taller then her by about two inches, but I feel like a little girl now. Funny how just a look can do that.

I'm about to fire back when I catch movement out of the corner of my eye. A wisp of auburn hair. Ella looks on from the kitchen doorway, her lips pressed into a tight line, her wide eyes sad and pleading.

Immediately the fight goes out of me, replaced by guilt and shame. This doesn't usually happen, and I scold myself for not being able to control my emotions better then this. She almost never catches us like this, but the few times she has kills me. She's had to grow up fast for her age. My head pounds as my anger ebbs away, and I look back on the fight with regret.

Without a word, I brush past Mom and sweep into the porch, putting on my shoes and throwing Ella a pair of her sneakers and a sweater. I can't trust my temper to remain level if I'm around Mom, and I won't leave Ella with her either.

"What, are you running away now?" Mom taunts. You'd think she'd leave it alone now.

"Oh shut up." I spit. I usher Ella outside and slam the door. Thankfully, I remembered to grab my car keys before I stormed out, because it would be more then a little embarrassing to have to go back in for them.

Ella jumps in the car and I drive, both of us silent. It's not awkward silence though, mostly just relieved to get out of there. I don't know where I plan on taking her, but when I notice the emptiness in my stomach, I pull into a McDonald's and grab my wallet. She orders a six piece nugget meal and I have a Big Mac.

"I'm sorry." I say once we sit down. I've spent this entire time trying to figure out what to say to her and that is the only thing I could come up with.

"I know." She replies, slowly chewing on a fry. "You don't have to be. I would've lost it too." She shrugs and I shake my head.

"That's a lie." I say, she smiles. She's too calm to ever lose her temper as quick as I did and too kind to say the things I said. She's really too good to be living the way she is, and I feel partially at fault for my contribution in the arguing, even though I know she would never want me to feel that way.

"Seriously, I didn't mean for it to go that way. I wish you didn't have to hear that." I sigh, guilt gnawing at the pit of my stomach.

"It's really fine and like Mom said, I can handle it." She says which just makes my heart sink deeper. "Anyway, so what? Mom was moody, what's new?" She smirks.

I smile, thankful she's not one to hold grudges, but still feeling guilty. "I'll tell you what _is_ new." She continues as I take a bite of my burger. "What's going on with you and 'tall, dark, and handsome'?" She waggles her eyebrows at me and I nearly choke on my food, making her laugh.

"Okay, where did you get that from?" I ask, shocked at her title for Joseph.

"Don't change the subject." She says, a knowing smile on her face.

I roll my eyes but feel heat rush to my cheeks anyway. "I don't know." I admit, taking another bite of my food to hopefully hide some of the blush.

"Oh, _I_ do." She says, grinning.

"Oh my god! You're too young for this." I laugh, exasperated. "Since when did you become so invested in my love life?"

"Since you actually got one."

"I _don't_ have one." I protest. I glare at her and she smirks. I start to think she might be spending too much time with Maren.

"You're blushing." She teases.

"I'm aware." I grumble. She giggles and a reluctant smile breaks out on my face. A lot of times she seems older then she is, so I'm glad for the times I spend with her when she reminds me of a happy girl that isn't too grown up. I would do anything for her wide brown eyes to be filled with innocence instead of sharp wisdom.

We continue to finish our meals, sometimes silent, sometimes talking, it doesn't really matter. We leave to restaurant and drive back home, where mom is unsurprisingly in her room.

"Thanks for supper, Mar." Ella says once we're upstairs and ready for bed.

"No problem." I reply, wrapping an arm around her and kissing the top of her head. "Night El." I say when she stops at her room.

"Goodnight Marina. Love you."

I smile. "Love you too."

I walk to my room which is between hers and the bathroom, I also have to pass Mom's room on the way. I don't know what I listen for, certainly not crying or an apology. I hear nothing.

I go to my room and get in bed. Ella may not have all the support she needs, but she has me, and that's whole lot better than nothing. I don't know if Mom will ever come around again, but until she does, me and El have each other. I think I need her as much as she needs me.

* * *

 **Hope you enjoyed! Thanks for reading and please review!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hi! I want to say I'm really sorry for taking so long to update, I had exams on the go last week but thankfully that's all done so hopefully I'll be able to update faster now. As always, thanks so much for the the reviews, they're amazing! Anyway, please read on!**

* * *

 **John**

My gym bag thumps against my side, the strap digging into my shoulder as I walk to the track. The grass sways around me in time with the fall breeze, already cold with the approaching winter. It's now the end of September and it's getting cold. Fast. I should have wore pants, not shorts. Anywhere else would still be warm now, but the weather here is more than a little unstable so we have to deal with this. Today the temperature reached a high of seventeen, then didn't take long to plummet down to ten degrees and here we are. Of course, the drizzle isn't helping matters. The moisture clings to my skin and feels no different than ice on my arms and legs. At least I'll be running soon.

12:32.06. That's my time for last year's hundred meter. I plan on beating it, or at least coming close today. I'm currently making my way over to the running track for tryouts after just changing in the school. Both Stanley and Joe are going over there too, well supposed to be. As I look through the fog all around me, I see a few figures all walking in the same direction I am, although none that fit the body outline of either of my friends. I strongly suspect they'll be late, but that's not my problem.

I get to the track quickly, it's only a field over from the school anyway, but the wind and cold dew on the grass wetting my sneakers made the short trek feel like a lengthy journey. I'm sure I could ring water out of my socks by now and I wonder how my numb feet will be able to carry my body when it's my time to run.

I drop my bag down on the grass next to the bench, thankfully it's water proof. Some people are already here, doing stretches, warming up, or practicing on the track. I make my way to a part of the track that nobody is using and shake out my legs, attempting to draw some feeling back into my feet. It doesn't work so I try jumping up and down. After that fails I walk back to the bench defeated and check my watch. It's now five minutes until practice is supposed to start and Joseph and Stanley still haven't made an appearance.

I still need to warm up my feet though so I resort to slipping off my sneakers to hopefully dry the socks. My plan turns out to be futile as the fog and drizzle prevent my socks from making any progress with ridding the water from the fabric. I reach down to rub my feet with my hands and I'm assured that my socks are completely soaked. Great. Still, I put in the effort, desperately and a little violently trying to rub some feeling back into my feet. It helps a little.

I look around again, noticing a couple more silhouettes slowly advancing in my direction. The sight actually looks a bit eerie, the fog having a dreary effect on everything. I try to convince myself that I'm looking for my friends but I know that's not true. Maren has been the fastest sprinter on the girls track team for two years running now, and I've been expecting, and hoping for her to show up. Although I know she will, she's not one to just let someone take the top spot right out from under her.

"Hey." I look to my left to be greeted by Joseph. He sits down next to me on the bench, he's wearing track pants like I should have done, but he also walked his sneakers through the wet grass and they are visibly wet. It doesn't seem to be bothering him though.

"Hey, you ready?" I ask him.

He shrugs happily, the weather not even deterring his mood. "Maybe. I'm just gonna try my best and we'll see where it leads."

I nod. "Do you know where Stanley is?" I ask. Joseph looks puzzled and takes a glance around like I've been doing for the past ten minutes.

"Well I never saw him on the way up so..." He shrugs then grins. "On the bright side, if he doesn't show up somebody else might have a chance at getting the top time." He says hopefully.

Like Maren, Stanley always gets the top time for the guys tryouts and has been for the last couple years. I don't doubt that he'll show up eventually though, he'd probably rather break both his legs than let someone take the top spot. Stanley's fastest run was 10:58.45 last year, pretty much Olympic worthy and I'm completely sure there'll be scouts for him at some of the track meets this year. He'll have no problem getting a sports scholarship if he can only keep his grades up.

Before I can respond, I spot coach Powell coming up the hill, a clipboard in hand and a whistle around his neck. He has been the track coach ever since I've been here. His hair is close cut to his head and he almost never smiles. A rather intimidating man really.

"Reyes, Smith. Back again I see." He says when he gets closer, his voice sharp and gruff. Usually people mistake his tone for anger or annoyance, but you soon come to learn that it's just the way he normally sounds.

"Yes sir." Joseph replies enthusiastically while I nod, sitting up straighter in the process.

"I'm hoping to beat last year's time today, sir. Been training all summer." I inform him, knowing from the past that you have to put in work for him to respect you.

He smiles tightly, which some would mistake for a grimace. "Good to know. You're one of our best runners, John. Happy to have you back, both of you." He nods and stalks toward the small hut that's built along the side of the track that I assume has different race materials in it.

"He really has a warm personality doesn't he?" Joseph says sarcastically once he's out of earshot. I laugh but don't have time to respond, quickly jumping up when coach blows his whistle, signalling he's about to start the tryouts.

Joseph and I quickly jog over with the rest of the students, everybody forming a semicircle around him.

"For those of you who do not know, I'm coach Powell." He says, not even looking up and flipping a page on his clipboard that must be the list of people that signed up to tryout. "When I call your name, answer loudly. I will not be looking up." He starts calling names, every emotionless yell immediately answered by a loud 'here'.

"Maren." He yells, not even bothering to say her last name. When she doesn't answer his head does snap up, betraying his earlier statement as he scans the crowd, bushy eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Maren?" He calls again.

"Over here!" Her voice comes far from the right and everyone looks to see her jogging up over the hill. I hear a chorus of disappointed sighs from a group of girls, probably hoping she wouldn't show up so they could get the best time. Coach is the complete opposite, actually letting out a relieved smile at the sight.

"Sorry sir, got held up." She explains shortly, joining the group without bothering to put down her bag.

"That's alright. Just try to be faster next time." Is all he says before going back to calling out more names. Anyone else would have gotten a reprimand for being late, but not the star runner.

She nods, standing in her spot at the edge of the group. I notice she was smart enough to wear a different pair of sneakers through the field, lest her running sneakers be soaked through like mine. She doesn't move to put on her other sneakers though, it would be considered disrespectful since coach is still talking. Their mutual respect is half the reason for her favouritism, the other half being her running times.

She hasn't noticed me, standing a few people over and staring straight ahead. Her dark hair is pulled back into a ponytail, and her usual outfit of jeans and t-shirts has been replaced with black cropped leggings that cling to her figure and a loose fitting tank top. Her gaze is unwavering, her eyes almost the same colour as the fog, but somehow more vibrant. Her hair shines from the dampness in the air and small strands that came loose from the ponytail hang around her face. Shockingly beautiful as always.

I feel an elbow nudge my side and look to Joseph confused. He jerks his chin to coach Powell and I realize he said my name.

"Here!" I shout, hopefully not too long after. I feel heat rise to my face at just being caught staring for the second time this year. It seems I need to work on my watching skills. My eyes widen at how creepy the thought sounded and I shake my head at my own stupidity.

Still, I can't help but take another glance at Maren, as embarrassing as it could turn out to be if I'm caught again. When I turn my gaze in her direction, I'm more than a little shocked to see her already looking at me. She arches a dark eyebrow at me, a smile hinting at her lips in an amused expression. With embarrassment, I realize she just saw my whole thought process and I quickly look away to hide the blush on my cheeks. Hopefully the fog obscures her view.

I feel somebody come up next to me and turn my head to be met with Stanley, breathing hard from probably just sprinting up here. Luckily, he's blocking off my view of Maren so I don't have to worry about being subjected to further humiliation.

"You're late, Worthington." Coach Powell says, shaking his head. He doesn't even look up, flipping a page on his clipboard as Stanley attempts to make an excuse.

"Yeah I-"

"I don't want an explanation. This is your first warning." Coach interrupts coldly. Him and Stanley don't really get along even though Stanley is always the top runner. Stanley is a little too cocky for his liking, and doesn't really treat coach with enough respect for it to be reciprocated.

Stanley just shrugs, long used to the attitude from our coach, and stands with the rest of us waiting for him to finish attendance. Finally he calls the last name and tells us that we have two minutes to get warmed up. Joe and I head over to the track to do some stretches while Stanley, Maren, and a couple others make their way to the benches to put on their gear.

"Coach really hates Stanley, doesn't he?" Joseph says, pulling his arm across his chest and holding it there.

"Yeah, I can see his reasoning though." I reply. Joseph nods understandingly, then looks towards the bench, a smirk forming on his face.

"Looks like he's not the only one." He laughs. I turn to see Stanley sitting next to Maren in the bench and can't suppress an eye roll. He always has to annoy people.

Stanley says something to her with a smirk, causing her glare to harden as she finishes tying her shoes. She stands abruptly and snaps something at him, which only makes him laugh. I don't really understand the rivalry between them, it's confusing to say the least.

"God, she's frightening." Joseph shakes his head and stretches the other arm.

"Yeah, she's definitely..." I struggle with a word to describe her, nothing quite seeming right. Finally I finish with, "something else." I don't know if that statement really makes any sense at all, but Joseph nods, seeming to understand.

Our coach comes out of the hut and blows his whistle, resulting in the team crowding around him once more.

"Listen up!" He shouts, a couple murmurs stop immediately. "The boys are up first, I'll call everyone is alphabetical order."

He calls a name that I don't pay attention to, I don't have to worry about running for a while yet as my last name is close to the end. A tall guy that I vaguely recognize from around school steps up to the running lines to get ready. I leave Joseph and Stanley at the starting mark, not really worried about other people's times. I just need to focus on my running.

It seems I'm not the only one who has this idea. Maren stands off to the side as well, her arms folded and a scowl still on her face, most likely from her earlier confrontation with Stanley. When she notices me coming over, I can see her make a conscious effort to look a little friendlier, but it hardly helps. A smile appears on my face anyway, a weird feeling settling in my stomach as I walk over to her.

"Hey." She says without looking at me. Her stormy eyes are focused on something behind me. She's scowling though, must be Stanley.

"Hi, sorry about him by the way. He has a thing for getting under people's skin." I shrug and join her at her side, looking out at the track also. The first runner still hasn't started so I know it'll be a bit before I start.

"Really? I haven't noticed." Maren knows who I'm talking about immediately and shakes her head with disgust. As we're looking, Stanley has the nerve to wave at her from his place on the side of the track. "Someone needs to tell lord dipshit over there that he's not funny." She says through her teeth.

I try to stifle a laugh but it doesn't work. Maren gives me a confused look. "Lord dipshit?" I question, chuckling at the name.

She shrugs nonchalantly but I don't miss the hint of a smile on her face. "I'd like to see you come up with something better to describe..." she waves a hand in his general direction, "it."

"I think the simple term 'asshole' would have done just fine." I reply, not feeling that bad for insulting Stanley behind his back. I would probably say the same thing if he were here anyway.

An amused smile spreads over Maren's face, making me smile too, as if it's infectious. She shakes her head and when she replies the grin is toned down. "Whatever." She says. "It's all accurate anyway."

I hear someone yell "Go" and the first guy starts running. To tryout, you only have to run 100 meters, then they pick ten people to make the team. Only about half actually participate in competitions, the others just come to practices to train as alternates or something. The runner crosses the finish line and Coach Powell clicks his stop watch and writes his time on a clipboard. We only get to see our times at the end.

"Fourteen seconds." Maren states. I look at her. "That's how long he took. He won't make the team." She shakes her head, looking indifferent.

"Dream crusher." I tease.

She laughs a little and rolls her eyes. I feel a drop of water hit my cheek and immediately reach up a hand to wipe it off. I've gotten used to the constant drizzle but it's a little shocking to get hit with a bigger volume of the ice cold liquid. Another drop hits my arm, then another on my face again. It doesn't take long for the single drips to turn into a steady pour of rain, I can already feel it starting to coat my skin and seep through my clothes. I know tryouts won't be called off because of the weather though.

"Ugh." I grumble, putting a hand above my head in a futile attempt to keep the rain off me. But rain is far too common here and I know it won't work. Maren just smirks at my attempts, shaking her head and letting the rain hit her.

"Baby." She teases.

I wrinkle my nose at her but put down my hand anyway, shaking off the rain that's collected there. "Right, I forgot that everybody likes to get soaked in freezing temperatures." I say sarcastically.

She snorts. "It's ten degrees above freezing, actually." She retorts.

"Ten degrees is still cold." I say, speaking in the same playful tone she used with me. " _Actually_."

She rolls her eyes and my heart speeds up as she grins. I latch onto the last logical thought in my head before I can get too lost. "Come on, you can't tell me that you're enjoying this." I say, gesturing around at the rain falling around us.

"I think it's nice." She says stubbornly.

"Then I think you're still drunk from Friday."

The small smile that was still on her face turns into a scowl and I grin at her quick change of attitude. Of course, every expression looks great on her, but at least I can think clearly when her grin isn't taking my breath away. I think I blush at how cheesy my thought sounded. If Stanley knew what I was thinking he would punch me so hard.

"I didn't even drink that much." She crosses her arms and angles her face up to the rain, blatantly lying to me.

"I seem to recall that you passed out in the car."

"Well I don't remember that."

"You probably don't remember a lot."

I laugh as Maren rolls her eyes. Despite her attitude, I can't help but notice the light shade of pink now coating her cheeks. I realize that she prides herself on always being confident and in control, she wouldn't have wanted me to see her without her witty remarks and cool attitude. It didn't matter to me, I actually like her more after that. It made me see her in a different light, like she's less intimidating and more natural.

"What?" She asks when she sees me looking. Despite this now being the third time my staring has been noticed by her, I don't feel my face heat up like it usually would. Instead I just shake my head.

"Oh, you just looked tired." I reply lightly, gaining confidence now that I've seen I'm not the only one that can get embarrassed between the two of us. "You can rest on my shoulder if you want. You did give it a four star rating after all." I continue, edging her on further.

"Oh shut up." She mutters, probably half-joking. I hope anyway.

"Seriously, what happened in the morning. Did you throw up? I bet you threw up." I ask, a smirk still on my face. I bet I look a lot like Stanley right now. I nearly wince at the thought.

"Yes, John. I threw up." Maren replies, sounding a little irritated. Though I know if she was really mad she wouldn't hesitate to snap at me, so I must not be too annoying. Good.

"I _knew_ it."

"Congratulations." She says flatly. "Should we get you a medal or do you want a party?" She raises a dark eyebrow at me.

"I would say a party, but we'd have to keep you away from the alcohol." I reply, pretending to seriously consider my options. "Could a trophy be an option?"

Maren cracks a smile and I grin, relieved her annoyance was short lived. "Well aren't you quite the smart ass today."

"It seems the tables have turned." I shake my head in mock astonishment. "Wow."

I turn to her, feigning disbelief. She looks back at me, her arms crossed and a small smile on her face, slowly inching into proper grin as she catches my eye. I try not to get lost in hers. Her hair is now soaked and loose strands cling to her face perfectly. She's flawless without trying.

My staring is thankfully interrupted when a drop of rain hits me right in the eye. I cry out and my hand shoots up to my eye, immediately starting to rub the water out. When I recover I open my eyes to see Maren laughing at me. I try to glare at her but my vision is still blurry in my left eye and I can't completely focus. I'm not sure I'd be able to keep the grin off my face anyway.

"That was funny." She says.

"Glad you were amused." I reply dryly. She laughs again at my attitude and I can't keep the smile off my face.

Something else catches my eye though, another droplet forming on some hair that has been weighed down by water and sits just above my left eye. I shake my head violently to get the water out of my hair, which I'm sure looks terrible by now anyway.

I shake my head one last time to get some hair out of my eyes, then turn to Maren. "How do I look?" I ask, knowing fully about the mess that's probably sprawled all across my head. I really need to get it cut.

"You look like a wet dog." She replies. I laugh and make an attempt to fix it but judging by the look she sends me, it doesn't work in the slightest.

"A handsome wet dog though, right?" I say, a teasing smile on my face.

"Hmm..." She tilts her head to the side jokingly, sizing me up. After a moment, a small smile comes onto her face and she nods. "Definitely."

Even knowing it was a joke, my heart still leaps and a stupid grin spreads across my face. "Really?" I ask a little too excitedly

She chuckles. "Calm down. I think you're overestimating the good-looking features of a wet dog."

I feel my face heat up at getting so excited and I pretend to try and fix my hair again to hide my blush. It's really quite amazing how many times I manage to make a fool of myself in front of her, I hope she's not keeping track. It seems so stupid that such a simple comment can make make my heart soar, but I can't stop it. A reasonable part of me tries to tell me that I've only known her for a few weeks and I shouldn't be feeling this way. Oh well, I'm about past reason now anyway.

"John?" My head snaps back to Maren. She stands there with an expectant look on her face.

"Yeah? Did you say something?"

She shakes her head and points to the track with an amused smile. "You're up."

"Oh." In our conversation I almost forgot we were here, standing out in the rain with dozens of other people. Funny how easy it is to just block everything else out. I need to work on that.

I smile sheepishly at Maren and rush up to the track where Coach Powell is eyeing me with a hard look. I swallow nervously and take my spot on the track, looking over at Maren one last time. She nods. I guess that's as encouraging as she'll get. Good enough for me.

I focus on the track, the pouring rain splashing off the surface in a constant downpour. I block everything out and stare in front of me until the burgundy track is all I can see. It looks almost tranquil with the collected water.

I hear the whistle, then I'm running. I can feel myself gaining my full speed a little ways down, my legs and arms pumping as fast as my body will allow. Drops of rain sting my face and I squint my eyes to keep from being blinded by it. I cross the finish line and run off my momentum, quickly turning around and jogging back to coach as he writes down my time. I search his face for any clues as to how I might have done, but his expression betrays nothing.

"Great job man! You definitely beat your time last year." Joseph claps me on the back and I grin at him.

"Thanks. You did really good too." I reply. I didn't even pay attention to his run, but I know he already went because it's in alphabetical order. I must sound convincing because he grins.

"Yeah, that was a good run." Stanley grabs my shoulder and shakes it. I smile and feel obligated to stand at the edge of the track as Stanley does his tryout next.

Of course he does the hundred meters in a flash, leaving some other guys shaking their heads. He comes back with a cocky grin and Joe and I congratulate him on his run. They start talking about something and I manage to get away without being noticed. I find Maren standing closer to the track then before, probably because she will be up soon.

"So, think I'll make the team?" I ask her.

She doesn't hesitate before nodding. Her smile makes my mouth go dry. "Definitely."

 **Maren**

Rain hits off me relentlessly as I anxiously wait for coach to post our tryout times on the window of the track hut. I shift my weight from one foot to the other, watching him from beside the bench as he looks over the times, figuring out who will make the team. I know that I definitely got in the top five, but I don't know if I got the top spot yet. Some of the other girl's runs looked promising but it would be pretty good if I could get the best time for the third year in a row, especially since it's my last year here.

I shiver in the cold and bounce a little on my feet. I'm soaked to the bone right now and I have to constantly squint my eyes to keep the heavy drops of water from blinding me. I really don't mind the rain, it's just the cold that goes along with it that's bugging me, with the way it feels it might as well be snow falling instead of water. I suddenly wish I had taken Mom's advice and brought a raincoat instead of just packing a hoodie in my bag, a raincoat would do wonders for my constant shivering. I would never admit that to her though.

Coach Powell finally steps out from the hut and blows his whistle, signalling everyone to come over. I'm one of the first ones over there, along with John and his friend Joseph. John gives me a reassuring smile and I return the gesture. Usually I wouldn't but whatever, he's suffering just as much as me right now so I might as well put on a good face.

"Alright listen up!" Coach yells, although I don't think anyone was talking anyway. "Your times are posted here." He gestures to the window where a few pieces of paper are taped on the inside. "If your name is not circled, you didn't make the team. Although I encourage you to try again next year." With a nod, he leaves and everybody rushes forward to look for their name.

Since I'm up front, I'm one of the first to get to the list. I scan the list and quickly find my name, circled as expected. I look through the rest of the circled names- none of which I care to know -and smile when I find I have to best time. Well, for the girls tryouts anyway. 11:38.40.

"Great job, Maren." I look to my side to see John smiling at me, hair hanging in a wet mess over his forehead but his eyes are still bright.

I find myself grinning back at him, both from getting the top time and because he can still be cheerful even in this weather. "Thanks, you too." I reply even though I don't know his time yet.

I scan the list for his name and find it circled, the time next to it is 12:02.27. The moment is ruined when an unwelcome voice speaks up from the other side of me.

"Still couldn't beat me though, could you sweetheart?"

I don't even bother to look at Stanley's time. Of course he was faster then me, it's just logical. His legs are longer than mine, he is naturally more muscular, and his body is literally built to be physical. I feel familiar annoyance rush through me as I silently curse my body for its limits. Instead of getting worked up, I turn to meet Stanley's smug expression, filled with arrogance and superiority. I try to stay calm as I look him over, searching for weaknesses he doesn't have. I raise my eyebrows at him as he smirks.

"Your feet are huge." I stare up at him with a flat expression. "They are too big for your body, they look ridiculous and awkward and you have to live with it for the rest of your life because there is nothing you will ever be able to do about it."

He raises an amused eyebrow at me, but I didn't miss the way he glanced down at his feet when I finished my sentence. I struggle not to smirk at this small victory and turn on my heel, stalking away before he can respond. The rain is still beating down on me and I uselessly pull the hood up on my sweater to cover my head, even though I'm already soaked. I need to stop walking to text Mom to come and get me, but I'm pretty sure that would ruin the image of my triumphant retreat so I keep going. I'll just text her once I get in the school.

It doesn't take long until I here the sound of footsteps over the rain, running to catch up to me. I groan loudly but keep walking, desperate to escape Stanley and his attitude.

"Sorry, I didn't know I was such a bother." John chuckles. I breath out a relieved sigh and start to walk slower so he can catch up.

"Thought you were someone else." I explain shortly.

John laughs. "I didn't know Stanley changed his name to 'someone else'." He teases, grinning as he shakes more wet hair out of his eyes like he's been doing since it started raining.

"You know, I think it might be time to get it cut." I say, ignoring the comment about Stanley. I don't really want to involve him in the rivalry, especially when it's so stupid in the first place. I usually don't care what people think of me but it would definitely bug me if John came to the conclusion that I was dumb for carrying it on.

"Yeah." He admits, putting one hand up to straighten it out, though his attempts are useless. The state of his hair doesn't really matter though, he would probably still look good even if it was shaved off. Eventually he gives up trying to fix it and let's his hand fall. "So, how are you getting home?" He asks.

"My Mom is going to pick me up." I explain, then arch an eyebrow at him. "Why? Planning on following me?"

His eyes widen and his face turns red immediately. "No, I-of course not." He says quickly. I laugh as he scratches at the back of his neck, embarrassed. It's a little terrible of me really, but I've noticed that he's incredibly easy to embarrass and in all honesty, I find it quite amusing. He seems to realize I'm joking and narrows his eyes at me, but he's still a bit red at the cheeks.

"How rude, embarrassing me for your own personal amusement." He shakes his head.

"Sorry." I say, not really meaning it. "It's just so easy."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever." He rolls his eyes but he's grinning now too as he shakes his head.

I find myself looking at him for longer than I probably should. His perfectly straight teeth, strong jaw, blue eyes that are almost always lit up with humour, and shiny blond hair that still looks good no matter what he does with it. I've heard other girls in my school describe his as 'dreamy', and even I have to admit that he is practically the definition. Although I have more respect for myself and him to use a word like 'dreamy'.

He notices me looking but thankfully I think he still believes I'm teasing him because he looks away right after. "No I wasn't going to follow you." He continues, his embarrassment behind him. "I was going to ask you if you needed a ride."

"Hmm..." I think about it for a second. Mom wouldn't have to come and get me, it would be pretty convenient, and he's actually not bad company. "Are you a good driver?"

He chuckles. "I would like to think so."

"Alright then, that would be good." I reply. He grins wide but tones it down after a few seconds, shaking his head. I stifle a laugh so I don't embarrass him anymore than I already have. "Thanks." I add afterwards, remembering that manners are a thing.

"Don't mention it." He points toward the parking lot. "The car is that way." He informs. I almost roll my eyes but manage to keep a straight face.

"Thanks for letting me know." I nod seriously. "I would have never guessed that anyone would ever park a car in a parking lot." I look at him, my face deadpan, and he laughs.

"Well thank god you have me here to tell you." He jokes, bringing a laugh out me.

We continue to walk through the rain to his car which I now know is somewhere in the smattering of vehicles still left in the parking lot. I wouldn't object to jogging to the car to escape the cold, but John seems content to walk at a normal pace so I follow. I don't mind the rain really anyway, but it would be nice for some warmth to go along with it.

I don't know which car is his until he gets his keys out and a honk sounds from a black sedan. I'm almost to the passenger side door when John suddenly darts in front of me, pools of water splashing around his sneakers as he rushes to open the door for me. He looks unsure, a sheepish smile on his rain covered face as he stands there, waiting for me to get in. Through my surprise, I manage to walk forward.

"What a gentleman." I smirk as I climb in, playing off my shock.

John laughs and closes the door as soon as I get in, running around the car as I put down my hood and try my best to tame the mess of hair on my head. I run my hands over my my soaked hair for a second when I stop myself, my actions startling me. Why do I suddenly care how I look? I quickly put the bag that contains my sneakers in my lap, glad I found something to do with my hands since I'm kind of at a loss.

John throws his bag in the back seat before jumping into the drivers side and sticking the keys into the ignition. He sits back and blows into his hands to warm them, rubbing them together roughly after. He looks over and notices the bag in my lap.

"Here, it can go in the back." He says, reaching over and taking it off my lap before I can answer. He reaches back and lays it on the rear seat, and I can't help but notice the way his wet shirt clings to his body. Why would I even notice that? I quickly look away when he sits back up. _Stupid_ , I think to myself.

"Thanks." I say.

"No problem. You cold?" Again, before I can answer, he turns up the heat attempting to warm up the car. Instead cold air blows on me due to the vehicle only being started for ten whole seconds.

"That helped." I say sarcastically.

"Patience, Maren." He chides, putting the car in drive and propelling the car out of the space. "Where to?"

"It's only five minutes away, turn right." I instruct. He nods and gets us out of the parking lot and onto the main road, which is filled with potholes from years worth of rain.

"Only five minutes huh? Maybe I should have let you walk." He teases, shooting me another perfect grin.

"Funny." I reply flatly, then lean forward so I can take a better look at the radio as he drives. I go to turn it on but I don't really know how so I kind of just let my hand hover over all the buttons, trying to figure it all out. John senses my confusion and reaches over, pressing a button with a chuckle. "I would have figured it out eventually." I mutter as a song begins.

"Undoubtedly." He replies. I listen to the song for a couple of seconds and groan as I recognize the tune. "What? You don't like the song?" He asks with mock incredulity.

"It's not that I don't like it." I defend. "It's just so over-played, I think I've heard it a million times."

"That's because it's good!" John insists.

"Whatever." I lean forward to change the station but John playfully flicks my hand away. He tries to look offended but cracks a smile when I lean back in the leather seat with a groan. "What is this channel anyway? Old people FM?" I complain, although I'm unable to keep a smile off my face.

"It shouldn't matter what station it is." John laughs. "One does not simply change the song when Jessie's Girl is playing." He gives me a patronizing look before reaching forward and turning up the volume, bobbing his head with the beat of the song. I roll my eyes but for some reason I can't find it in me to be annoyed.

John starts to sing along when the chorus comes on, loudly, probably to annoy me more. His plan doesn't work though, the sight of his enthusiastic facial expressions and wide gestures is just purely comical and I can't help but laugh at the show he's putting on. The chorus finishes and he tries to keep singing but apparently he doesn't know the song as well as he led on, so he ends up mumbling most of the words, looking sheepish. After a second he resorts to humming the verse and avoiding my eyes.

"That's it?" I challenge. He shrugs and I laugh. "For someone who insisted we keep the song on, I would have thought you'd know more then ten words."

"Hey! I said it was a good song, I never said I knew the lyrics." John puts one hand up in surrender but keeps the other on the steering wheel, which is fortunate because the curvy road wouldn't have any problem throwing us off it if we weren't turning with it.

"But you have to admit, it is catchy." He says smugly, knowing I can't deny it.

"Yeah." I scoff. "The _plague_ was catchy, doesn't mean it was good." I reply nonchalantly. John shakes his head and laughs. I struggle not to, instead looking out the window as I notice the familiar houses that lead to my suburb. I point ahead to the entrance of my subdivision. "Turn in there."

"How do you do that?" He asks.

"Turn? It's pretty simple-" I start sarcastically but he cuts me off with another chuckle, turning on the blinker.

"No. How do you just come up with something smart to say _all_ the time?" He shakes his head again and turns into the subdivision, going slower now.

My eyebrows knit in confusion as I think about it. It doesn't really require much thought for me to come up with a sarcastic remark. Sometimes my smart mouth would be described as off-putting or rude, but thankfully John doesn't really seem to care, he might even find it amusing. I can conclude at once that this specific quality wasn't inherited from my mother, as she frequently loses arguments from not being able to make a return statement. I grudgingly admit to myself that it must come from my father. I usually try to dispute any quality in me that could be related to the man I never knew, more for the reason that I don't want to live with any of the crappy stuff that must be in his personality. Some things can't be disputed with a sarcastic comment though, as hard as I could try.

"I don't know, it just happens." I shrug, not letting John know about the internal argument that just went on in my head. "Left." I command, hoping to distract him from looking at me, concern easily read in his eyes. I might not be hiding my thoughts as well as I would like.

Still, despite his silent worry, he takes the turn. It's not long now until my house comes into view, although navigating through the subdivision takes almost as long as the first part of the ride.

"Well it's cool." John finally says, bringing me back to the conversation. "You're a cool person, Maren." He nods. I laugh, not sure what to make of the comment.

"Thanks for that. It's good to be reminded that my coolness factor is still up to standards." I reply, chuckling. John does too, glancing at me while he drives. There's a weird expression on his face, one that I can't place, but he turns back to the road before I can figure it out.

Knowing that I'll now be home in a few seconds, I reach into the back seat and locate my bag after a bit of feeling around, pulling it up with me.

"Are we close now?" John asks.

"Yup, the white one." I nod in the direction of my house, mom's car still in the driveway thanks to my lovely chauffeur.

He pulls into the driveway and I put my hood up again even though it's already wet and will hardly help keep the rain off. "Well, thanks for the ride. And the concert." I joke, opening the door. "Rick Springfield has got nothing on you."

John laughs. "Anytime." He replies. "See you tomorrow." I grin, suddenly not dreading math tomorrow, which is weird because the subject is basically the bane of my existence.

The force of the rain hits me anew as I step out of the car and I'm drenched again in a matter of seconds, not that it matters much at this point anyway. I quickly run up to the door and try to open it only to find it locked. Crap.

I pound on the door, then ring the doorbell excessively until the door is finally unlocked. I wave to John in thanks and head inside, grateful to be in the warm house.

"Who brought you home?" Mom asks, and I now realize she's standing over by the window watching John back out of the driveway. She has her hands on her hips and is blatantly eyeing the car. The sight looks pretty suspicious.

"Stop being a creep, Mom." I reply, kicking off my rain filled sneakers and putting them on the mat to dry. Mom laughs but quickly gets out of the window anyway.

"It's not creepy to want to know who brought my daughter home." She reasons, walking over and pulling my hood down. "God, you're soaked!" She exclaims, squeezing some water out of my hair.

"Rain tends to do that." I say. She wrinkles her nose at me, making me laugh.

"Who brought you home?" She asks again.

"A friend."

"That wasn't Marina or Riley."

I roll my eyes. "I have other friends, Mom."

"None that I've heard of." She retorts. I have to admit, she makes a good point. I shrug and walk into the kitchen to sit down on one of the wooden chairs, knowing better then to bring my wet self over to sit on the couch. "Who was it?" Mom asks for the third time.

"Well his name is John." I say, grabbing a bottle of water out of the fridge before I sit down. I'm not even tired at all since I only had to run 100 meters, but I guess it can never hurt to hydrate and all that crap.

Mom raises an eyebrow, now starting to come in the room as well. "John who?"

"John Smith."

"Hmm, sounds interesting." She drawls, which is ironic since 'John Smith' is literally the most generic name ever. Mom taps her chin. "How long have you known him?" She asks. I sigh, agitated by all the questions. Mom notices and a smile appears on her face at my annoyance.

"Since the beginning of the year." I say, taking a drink from the bottle of water. She nods slowly. I think I know where this is going.

"He's... _attractive_." She says, hauling out a seat on the other side of the table and lodging her head on her hand. I almost laugh. It almost sounds like she wants to take him for herself.

I raise my eyebrows at her. "Isn't he a little young for you, Mom?" I tease.

"Ugh, Maren." She groans, but she's smiling. I grin at her and she rolls her eyes, stealing my water and taking a sip.

"Look Mom, if you want to date someone in my grade, go ahead. I won't judge." I say shrugging. She stops drinking to glare at me, her mouth full of water. I just smirk and take the water back out of her hand.

"Why do I even try with you?" She sighs dramatically, giving up at this attempt of girl talk. "So, I assume you got the fastest time?" She asks, knowing I won't object to that topic of conversation.

"I may have." I answer, trying but failing to tone down a smug grin. Mom is smiling too and when she sees my proud expression she breaks into a laugh.

"So, captain of the hockey team, top runner... anything else to add to the list?" She teases, but the smile on her face is filled with pride.

"Not yet." I reply. I lean back in the slightly uncomfortable chair, pressing my soaked sweater into the back of the seat. I should probably take it off.

Mom walks around to my side of the table and leans down to put an arm around my shoulders. "Great job kid." She kisses the top of my head then goes the cupboard, pulling out a pot to start supper.

I stand up and push my chair in, holding out my arms to Mom. "Thanks but I think I need a full hug." I gesture for her to come over but she shakes her head at once, laughing at the idea and eyeing my drenched clothes.

"You're getting nothing until you change your clothes."

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! I did Maren's POV along with John's because I kind of wanted to show how she feels about the whole thing. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed and please leave a review :)**


	9. Chapter 9

**Hey, I'm back! I know it's been longer then usual and I'm really sorry for not updating sooner. You guys still gave me a bunch of great reviews and support for last chapter though and I seriously cannot thank you enough for that!**

 **Also, some of you guys were concerned with me cancelling the story. The answer is no, as long as you guys are interested in reading it, I will be happy to write for it :) That being said, I don't know how fast I'll be able to update. What I didn't know (last update when I misinformed y'all about me possibly being able to update faster) is that I would have two jobs this summer, which requires pretty much all day work. I understand that some of you are annoyed by the update speed but trust me, if I could update any faster I certainly would. But writing a lot isn't really a possibility at the moment.**

 **Again, I'm really sorry for the slow updates and I can't thank you guys enough for the amazing reviews despite the wait I put you through. This chapter is the longest yet so hopefully it makes up for it!**

 **As per request, lots of Navrina in the second half of this one. Thank you so much to everyone who read and reviewed. Without anymore wait, here's chapter nine :)**

 **Stanley**

"Ugh, its choking me." I complain to Dad, running a finger between the suit collar and my neck.

Dad chuckles and shakes his head. "Ah the struggles of a man." He teases. "Now let's get you a tie." He shuffles out of my room to go grab a tie from his wardrobe since I don't own any. It's easy for him to laugh, he's still in his pyjamas and has the day off.

I sit back on the bed slouched, my body posture betraying the clean outfit I'm done up in. This week is a special week in our school. It's "Cup Week" as us students call it. The start of the first major hockey tournament of the school season. Well, really it's only two schools competing, but it is always labeled as three of the most important games of the year. It's a tournament that is held every year between our school and our biggest rivals; Mogadore Academy. Even the name sounds stupid, it's some preppy private school downtown, and it's safe to say the hatred is mutual.

Anyway, the occasion is so spectacular that our hockey coach makes all of the guys wear suits for the entire week, as though we would get more support if we look nice. Almost the entire school comes to the event anyway, nobody in their right mind would miss such a huge show down. They also wouldn't want to miss our victory, which will happen this year, for sure. Well I hope it will anyway, I'm pretty sure the win-lose ratio is about the same for both schools throughout the years, but both of our teams (girls and boys) are the best they have ever been since I got here, so I think we have a good chance.

Dad comes back in the room with a black tie to match the dark grey pants and jacket he picked out for me. He eyes my slumped posture and gestures for me to straighten up while handing me the long tie. I stare at it in his hands for a second before taking it, unsure of what to do. I put the stupid thing around my neck examine the two pieces that hang down, holding them up close to my face.

"Are you gonna help me or what?" I ask Dad, who has been standing by the side of my bed and watching my struggle with an amused smile. He chuckles but waves me over anyway.

"You'd think after three years you would have figured this out by now." He chides when I stand in front of him.

"Why would I when you always do it for me anyway?" I retort as he starts with it. He doesn't say anything back, instead he yanks the tie a little too hard, making me wince.

"Oops, my bad." He feigns guilt and I roll my eyes, causing him to smirk.

Dad does a complicated looking series of loops and pulls until the tie finally looks normal, then pulls it up so it sits tightly against my throat. He pats my shoulder before standing back and admiring his work with a proud smile.

"Look at you, looking all sophisticated." He teases.

"I feel like I'm suffocating."

"Stop being so dramatic, beauty hurts." He retorts, laughing when I shoot him a glare. I start pulling at the white dress shirt that's tucked into my pants but I stop when Dad raises his eyebrows at me, suddenly serious. "Don't touch anything." He warns, obviously not wanting me to wrinkle my perfectly ironed clothes.

"Whatever." I sigh. I look at the clock and decide it's time to go. I turn around and grab my bag that's on the floor, slouched with papers falling out of the top. It looks about as dejected as I feel. "Well I'll be off." I say, slinging it over my shoulder and attempting to walk past Dad, but he stays in place. "What?"

"Aren't you forgetting something?" He asks, nodding to the bed.

I turn to find my suit jacket laying there, perfectly folded in half. I reluctantly go back and take it, roughly shoving each arm in the sleeves to make my displeasure known. When I'm done, I gesture to myself and send Dad a pointed look. He laughs and steps to side, allowing my exit. I grab my bag and head out.

"Have a nice day!" Dad calls.

I roll my eyes even though he can't see me and make my way down the hallway, catching sight of myself on the mirror on the way. I don't know why we have a full-length body mirror in the hallway but whatever. I don't even look like myself with the smart grey suit on and neat, smoothed out hair. I realize with horror that I kind of look like dad, just with longer hair and a shaved face instead of a full beard. My eyes widen and I quickly turn away, rushing down the stairs before I can see anymore of my reflection.

I stare at my side of the key rack where two sets of keys are hung. One for Dad's truck (which is basically mine since he only ever takes his car) and one for my motorcycle. I know Dad would want me to take the truck to protect my suit against the wind, but I head out through the door with my bike keys anyway since the weather is nice for once. I do take a jacket though because I know I would be in deep trouble if didn't at least put something over the extensive attire. It's not long before I hop on the bike and realize I forgot my helmet.

Yup, today is turning out great.

-page break-

Alright, I love hockey but I officially hate Cup Week. I irritably shove an orange streamer out of my face as I walk through the doors of the school, stalking down the hallways to avoid the attention my outfit brings me. Usually I don't mind attention, but my mood is a little less then shitty today so I'd be lying if I said I wasn't bothered by the constant feel of people's eyes on me as I walk.

When I see the reflection of my scowling face in one of the windows I know I need to lighten up. Being upset because of a suit is just dumb, right? I remind myself why I'm wearing the ridiculous outfit and try to get excited for the game. I make an effort to mask my face into a more neutral expression and try to travel in a little more of a relaxed stride, realizing that people are probably just looking at me because I'm walking like I'm on a mission. It works a little, but I still can't help the flash of annoyance that runs through me every time I turn my head and feel the collar of my shirt digging into my neck.

I reach my locker and take off the lock, swinging it open and accidentally making it clang loudly with the force of my pull. The noise causes a couple people to look over and I internally curse as I rip off my school bag and violently shove it on the hook.

"Woah, who pissed in _your_ cornflakes this morning?" Joseph leans on the locker along side of mine, smirking when he sees the scowl that has made its way back onto my face. "Cheer up! It's Cup Week after all." He reminds me.

"Easy for you to say, you don't have to wear this-" I gesture angrily at myself as I try to come up with a word. "This crap!" I finish shaking my head. Joseph eyes widen and he takes a step back.

"Woah dude, calm down." He says. "You know, a lot of people would kill for that suit."

I sigh but know he's right. I'm lucky to be able to afford a nice attire, the least I can do is refrain from complaining about it. I nod and focus on calming down.

"There we go." Joseph soothes jokingly, patting my back. "Deep breaths man."

I roll my eyes and he laughs. Turns out I have math first so I grab my books, Joe grimacing sympathetically when he sees the subject. I don't actually completely hate it anymore since I've started to understand it, but I nod sadly anyway since I don't think anybody wants to have math first period on a Monday, including me.

The bell rings and I make my way to class while Joseph goes off to his. I see John on the way up to math, wearing a suit like me but his is black and he actually looks like he's comfortable in it.

"Well look at that, I didn't know you could ever look smart but here you are." He jokes once I get up to him.

I chuckle. "Compliment taken, insult ignored."

John laughs but doesn't say anything else as we enter class. Weird, Mr. Collins isn't here yet, and he's almost always early. John goes to his seat and I take mine next to Riley, who arches an eyebrow at my outfit as I lay my books on the desk.

"Well don't you look rather _dapper_ today." She teases with a wry smile on her face.

"Well I do try." I reply, grinning at her as I take my seat, my mood suddenly improved. "I'd rather be comfortable though." I eye her light orange hoodie, and jeans.

"Hey, we had a dress code too." She defends, gesturing to the writing across the chest of the sweater that says 'Legacy Lions Hockey'.

"Hardly." I scoff. She laughs causing me to grin again in an instant.

Our begins of a conversation stops as a young woman saunters into the class, her back straight and high heels clicking. She's wearing leggings and blouse, and her dyed black hair swings around her as she walks, brown showing at the roots. She obviously thinks she's the best person on earth while all I see is an arrogant face, and not a very pretty one at that. She looks like she just got out of school herself, and scans over us all with an expression of superiority. In conclusion, she looks stuck-up and will probably be a downer on my day.

"We have a substitute?" I groan. I never thought I would be upset to see the absence of Mr. Collins, but I would probably cheer if he walked through the door right now if it meant I didn't have to deal with this woman.

Riley nods. "Yeah, I knew by the coat and the bag." She explains, pointing to a colourful purse on the floor and a feminine looking jacket that's laid neatly across the back of Mr. Collins' chair.

"Huh." I lean back in my chair and wonder why I never noticed before. "Perceptive." I note.

"Are you kidding? You'd have to be blind to not notice that purse." She says quietly, as though our substitute could hear from over at the desk. She's looking at herself on the reflection of the computer anyway so I doubt she would notice even if she was closer.

"Yes, it is quite the statement isn't it?" I reply with mock seriousness. "Though it could be pulled off with the right accessories." I muse, looking sideways at Riley. She doesn't look at me, I know her stoic facade would wash away if she did.

"You can't have the _right accessories_ when the purse is the accessory." She argues, her voice going deeper at 'right accessories', which I think is supposed to be an imitation of me.

"Are you mocking me?" I accuse.

"Maybe." She catches my eye and tries to be serious but ends up grinning anyway, biting her lip as though it could keep the smile down. I've come to learn that it doesn't take much to get that reaction from her.

I grin myself at the sight of it, but it quickly fades as our substitute steps in front of the class and clears her throat to get everyone's attention, as if that would work with a room full of high schoolers. Eventually she yells, "Guys!" Her voice rising up at the end like it's a question, but I think that's just the way she talks. The new presence causes most people to pay attention but there are still a few murmurs that can be heard at the back of the class. She doesn't seem deterred and introduces herself as Ms. Cameron.

As she turns around to start teaching, I turn to Riley and make a gun with my hand and put it in my mouth, pushing down my thumb as if I was pulling a trigger. I grin when she stifles a laugh.

Apparently we're starting a new unit today, which basically just means she'll recap what we already know then give us a work sheet. Because of this, I naturally don't pay attention, bouncing my pencil off the desk by the eraser or tugging at my shirt collar. It's almost as annoying as the woman at the front of the classroom. I start to bounce my pencil harder so it'll go higher, sometimes toppling over before I can catch it, making quite the noise in the otherwise quiet classroom. Eventually Ms. Cameron starts to look back from the white board each time it falls, scouring the classroom with a gaze that I think is supposed to be intimidating, but she can't seem to realize it's me.

Just as I start to make it game, Riley reaches over snatches the pencil out of my hand before it can clatter to the desk again. She laughs quietly at the look I send her.

"She looks so confused, it's a sin." She defends, the smile on her face mixed with both amusement and sympathy. I roll my eyes but I can't help smiling a little at Riley's defence of the obviously bitchy teacher. I guess she wants to give her a chance.

She gives me a warning look before slowly lifting her hand with my pencil between two fingers, offering it to me. I'm about to take it when it suddenly slips from her hand and lands on the desk, making the same loud sound it had when I was dropping it.

"Frig." Riley mutters and rushes to pick it up, right at the moment Ms. Cameron decides to turn around.

I'm about to warn Riley, but our teacher's eyes land on her before I can get a word out. Riley finally manages to pick the pencil up and holds it up to me again, but it's Ms. Cameron who plucks it out of her grasp, now standing in front of our two desks with a smug gaze angled at the girl next to me. Riley looks subjected when she meets our teacher's stare, a little pink in the cheeks but not really seeming surprised.

"So it was you." Ms. Cameron states, obviously looking for an explanation. Ironic since Riley was the one trying to help her. I immediately feel guilty for doing it in the first place. I open my mouth to defend her but Riley talks before I can say anything.

"Yeah, sorry Miss." She apologizes, my eyebrows involuntarily raising in surprise as she takes the blame. "It won't happen again." She promises.

Our substitute's face betrays a shocked expression, probably surprised by the ease and quickness of the apology. Usually teacher's would take the victory and move on, but Ms. Cameron's inexperience must push her to continue with the interrogation, because her face is now back to the smug look she had when she came over.

"Well, since you were obviously paying attention I guess you wouldn't mind finding the answer for the question on the board?" She says extending a hand with a white board marker in it. I have to hold back a laugh at the victorious look on her face. She doesn't know that she just chose the best math student in the grade to 'humiliate'.

The tiniest smile flickers briefly across Riley's face before she quickly morphs it into a nervous frown and she nods solemnly, taking the marker and standing up. Her act looks so real that I almost believe she's nervous.

Riley uncaps the marker as she walks to the whiteboard and studies the question. I think it's algebra but I can't be sure. A note of confusion strikes in me when she doesn't immediately begin her workings on the board, instead just standing there with the marker poised to write, but she's not doing anything. Ms. Cameron's smirk grows after a few long seconds of silence, and she faces the class.

"Alright, does anybody else-"

"Three point two." Riley's voice stops Ms. Cameron from continuing her sentence, and she turns to the teenager with a raised eyebrow.

"What?" She asks, obviously irritated by the interruption.

"The answer." Riley replies, then turns to the board. "X equals... three point two." She speaks slowly as the marker in her hand struggles to keep up with her words. With a final squeak of the dry erase pen, she steps back to reveal no workings. Just simply X= 3.2.

"How do you know that? You didn't do any workings." Our teacher asks suspiciously.

"Oh, I did it in my head." Riley answers simply. I grin at the dumbfounded expression on Ms. Cameron's face. Riley raises her eyebrows in an expression of innocence. "I can write out the workings though, if it'll help you understand."

I hear a few snickers throughout the class and I can't stop my eyebrows from shooting up in surprise at her words. Up until now I've only ever known Riley as extremely kind and compliant, I would've even said she was a bit of a pushover. I've never seen this side of her that gives as good as she gets, although her way of talking back is much kinder than what most students would say in an argument. But I think her genuine looking innocence might actually annoy Ms. Cameron more than a biting insult would.

"I don't need the workings to understand the question." Our substitute scoffs in response, getting a little angry now that her plan didn't work out as she thought it would. "I'll have you know that I have three university degrees." She continues as she watches Riley calmly walk back to her desk.

"Wow, that's a really fine achievement Ms. Cameron. Well done." She replies earnestly, sitting down again next to me. I arch an eyebrow at her but she's too busy embarrassing our teacher to notice. "But, I'll have _you_ know that you got number two wrong." She smiles reassuringly at our teacher's heightened anger. "Don't worry Miss, everyone makes mistakes. It's only natural."

Ms. Cameron glares daggers at her before going over to where question two is written on the board. "The answer is seven by the way." Riley calls helpfully as our substitute starts to erase the board. After a few laughs are emitted from a couple people in the room, she freezes with the eraser in her hand and turns in our direction again. It's not long before she stalks her way over and stands in front of our desks again, her hands on her hips and her glare once again settled on the girl next to me.

"What is it? You think you're smart now because you've corrected me once?" She sneers. "Well let me remind you that you're not the teacher of this class, young lady. Is your name on the door over there?" She points to the door, where "Mr. Collins" is engraved on a small piece of metal along with the room number.

"No." Riley shrugs, looking up at her calmly. She raises an eyebrow. "Is yours?"

A chorus of "ooh"s is heard from the class at the well aimed dig. She really did ask for it. Ms. Cameron clenches her jaw but can't seem to find anything to respond with and makes her way over the the desk. She pulls a short, white slip of paper out of the drawer and grabs a pen. Riley's smile does lessen a little when she sees the paper, everyone knows what it is. A detention slip.

"What's your name?" Ms. Cameron asks.

"Riley Pierce." She replies, then start to spell it out. "R... I... L-"

"I think I can figure out how to spell a name." Our teacher snaps back, scribbling something on the paper. While she's doing that, I look to Riley with smirk. She shrugs nonchalantly but I can see a smile creeping up on her face too, despite the situation.

"I thought you felt sorry for her." I accuse

"Yeah, I _did_." She says, then shrugs. "I don't now."

"Well that's obvious." I laugh and she does to, though she does look a little guilty. I don't really know why though. I wouldn't feel any remorse, but I think we've both made it clear how different we are from each other by now.

Ms. Cameron comes over and slaps the slip of paper on Riley's desk with a glare, not wasting any time before walking away. Riley looks at the paper for a second before laughing and holding it up for me to see. I look closer to see that "Mouthing off" is written as the reason for detention. I chuckle and giver her a 'really?' look which just she replies by nodding with another laugh. I also notice that the detention time is until 4:00 which sucks since school ends at 3:00. Shit, I really am an asshole.

I see our substitute go to row of desks next to us with a stack of paper, handing a pile to the first desks for them to pass back. She gets over to our row and sets the pile on my desk heavily. "Take one and pass it back." She mumbles, already moving to the next row.

"Ms. Cameron, wait a second." I say suddenly, the words out of my mouth before I can think about it. She stops and turns to me expectantly. "I just wanted to let you know that it was me. You know, dropping the pencil." I explain. "Riley took the blame but obviously your three university degrees didn't make you smart enough to figure it out." Her face scrunches up in anger and I can't help but smirk. "Well, it's either that or you're just really stupid."

I lean back in my chair as a few laughs sound through the class and raise a challenging eyebrow at her as she stares me down, an expression of pure hatred on her face. She must be lost on something to say because instead of responding, she slams the rest of the papers down on the final row of desks and heads to her own table. It's the first time I've ever grinned as a teacher pulled out a little white slip.

"Name." She orders.

"Stanley Worthington." I answer helpfully and without complaint, which she seems confused about but quickly jots down the information anyway. I take it with a smirk when she hands it to me. Riley gives me a weird look when I face her.

"Why'd you do that? You were in the clear."

"Consider it my way of apologizing since it was my fault both of us are going."

She shakes her head. "Sure, it was nice of you but it really would have been in your best interest to keep quiet."

"Nah, you'd be bored without me there." I tease, grinning at her.

She smiles and rolls her eyes but doesn't say anything, looking unsure. About what I don't know. She helps me with the work sheets until the bell rings and we both leave, a heavy glare from our substitute following us on the way out.

"See you at three." I say to her as I see Maren and John start to catch up.

Riley pauses before responding. "Yeah, see ya."

Maren reaches us and I hang back so I can walk with John instead, though I do keep watching Riley for a reason I can't identify. Maren says something to her that causes her to roll her eyes before responding with a laugh through her words. I'm silently amazed at how she manages to always be so happy, a lot like Joseph actually. Though her seemingly never ending cheerfulness doesn't get on my nerves like my friend's sometimes does.

When I finally zone back into the world, I notice John is looking ahead too, but not at Riley. Oh god no, please tell me he's not into Maren.

-page break-

With the smile on my face as I walk through the halls, nobody would ever know I was on my way to detention. Even with the suit still being uncomfortable as all hell, and the attention in the halls drawn by the outfit, a grin is still on my face and I don't know why.

Everyone is headed towards the busses now, or cars or whatever, so there's not really that many people left in the halls as I happily make my way to room 108, where detention is always held. I would know. I walk into the room and hand my slip to a teacher I don't know. He takes it with a bored expression and tells me to sit down, but I know the drill now anyway. It's far from my first time in detention. A couple of other kids come and sit down, but I don't care about any of them until I see a shorter figure with a brown bun on her head and an orange hoodie coming in. Surprisingly, she looks like she knows the drill too. She's full of surprises today.

I grin at her as she spots me and she sends me a weird look before sitting down in the desk ahead of me. "You look awfully happy to be here." She observes.

"Oh you know." I shrug. "Sun shining, birds chirping." She laughs shortly and arches an eyebrow at me as if reminding me that we're trapped inside an intellectual prison for the next hour. As though I could have forgotten.

Almost as soon as we start talking we're silenced by the teacher on duty before he goes back to reading his newspaper. Riley turns around in her seat so she's facing the front of the room, and away from me.

So we wait. Nobody is allowed to talk, only do homework. And since I don't have any homework I care to do at the moment, I'm not allowed to do anything. Since I'm in the back, I'm able to lean my head on the wall to get in a comfortable position, but everyone else assumes the 'arms folded for a pillow' position as they wait out their sentence. And we wait, for what seems like a long time. I don't really comprehend how bad I want to get out until I look at the clock after an eternity, only to find that no more than twenty minutes have passed.

I try not to look at the clock since time seems to pass slower when I'm staring at it. My eyes automatically settle in front of me, where Riley has her head resting on her desk, using her arms as a pillow. I would think she's asleep if not for her bouncing knee which tells me she's very much awake. She always seems to be moving in some way. If she's not bouncing her knee then she's fiddling with her pencil or doing something else.

I hear a crinkling of paper as the teacher on duty folds the newspaper in half before laying it down on the desk and standing up, stretching a little. "I'll be back in a bit." He says tiredly, walking out of the classroom.

Everyone who looked up when he moved puts their heads down on the desks again, and some begin talking to one another now that there's nobody here to stop them. I'm about to lean back myself when Riley turns in her seat so she's facing me.

I smirk a little. "Couldn't get enough of me could you?"

She rolls her eyes with a short laugh, then looks to the doorway the teacher just left through. "You bored?" She asks.

"Is that even a question?" I counter, crossing my arms.

"Right, yeah." She replies slowly, looking down with a sheepish smile. "That was a stupid question, I don't know why I said it." She shakes her head and I laugh as she rolls her eyes at herself.

"Anyway..." she continues, mock glaring at my laugh. "I think I'm gonna go."

My eyebrows pinch together in confusion and I make a show of looking at the clock on the wall, where it clearly reveals it's not near time to go yet. "It's only 3:24."

"I'm aware of the time." She says with half a smile. "But I also know that I have to be at the rink for five thirty, and I don't have time to get out of here and eat supper and get there in time." She explains. I remember the girls hockey game is at 6:00.

"I think you're over-estimating how long it'll take you to eat supper." I point out.

"Maybe." She admits, grabbing her bag on the floor with an arched eyebrow in my direction. I grin.

"Alright. I'm coming." I decide, standing up to grab my bag and jacket. Riley sighs and looks up at me, unsure. "What?"

"I'm starting to think I'm a bad influence on you." She states. By now, almost everybody is looking at us, their attention drawn by our movement.

"I think it's the opposite." I retort.

One corner of her mouth turns up. "You'd be surprised." She counters, though it's under her breath. I don't think she meant for me to hear it.

We walk down the isle and nobody says anything as we pass, although I never expected them to anyway. I haven't skipped out of detention before and if I'm being honest, my heart is beating pretty hard and my palms are starting to get sweaty. _C'mon man up_ , I think to myself as we make it to the doorway.

"Alright. So what's the plan, criminal?" I look over Riley's head as I speak and look both ways to watch for the teacher on duty.

She lets out a short, quiet laugh. "We go on as normal." She answers simply, walking through the doorway while I follow close behind. "The best way to not seem suspicious is to act like nothing's wrong."

"Does that come from experience?" I tease, though I'm also a little curious.

She doesn't answer, but that half-smile thing she does lights up her face again, but she quickly looks away. My heart beats a little faster as we get closer to the main entrance, she seems to be doing fine though. That is until the teacher that was watching us suddenly comes out of a room close ahead of us, now holding a donut in one hand.

"Was that door always there?" I ask, confused.

"Just keep walking."

Positive I'm walking towards certain death, I put a relaxed smile on my face anyway as we get closer to him. I keep glancing at him to see if he looks suspicious, and he does a little, studying us the way I'm studying him. When we get a few steps away, Riley puts a warm grin on her face.

"Hey Mr. Richards, you don't mind if we go a little early do you?" She asks as we go by. The smile must throw him off, because he returns the expression with a nod.

Just as we go past him, recognition dawns on his features and he starts to say something, but we speed past him and rush down the hallway. "Wait!" He shouts, but Riley pulls me into the lobby by my arm before I can do anymore but wave.

We jog to the rest of the way to the front doors and go through, into the unusually warm fall air. Our shoes scuff on the sidewalk as we slow down and eventually slow to walk. I expect to feel relief when we're clear from being caught but I don't. If anything, I'm even more nervous, as though he could pop out from the door at any second.

"And that's how you get out of detention." I announce. Riley laughs and I grin, securing the bag around my shoulder since it flopped around a little with the running. "I don't get it though. Wouldn't skipping out of detention just give you more detention?"

"Not under the right circumstances."

I raise my eyebrows at her. "What are you? Some type of mastermind?"

She laughs. "I think mastermind is a strong word." She replies jokingly. "No, I just know what you can get away with."

Before I can ask how, she slows down and stops on the sidewalk, leaving me on my route to the parking lot. I can hear the scraping of my dress shoes on the ground as I turn to her. "You know, staying at school after you just ditched is probably a bad idea." I warn with a smirk.

"I need to call my sister to pick me up." She explains, pulling her phone out of her bag.

"I can give you a ride." The words come from my mouth before I can think about them, but I'm glad I found something to say. She shakes her head anyway.

"No, it's fine really. I'll just-"

"Come on." I urge. "I really don't mind."

"I live fifteen minutes away." She argues.

"I live ten." I retort. She raises her eyebrows at me, achieving an expression of annoyance for a second before that familiar smile breaks out on her face like it does so often. I get a weird feeling in my stomach and I realize it's not skipping detention that's making me nervous. It's her.

"Can I trust you Stanley?" She teases, already starting to walk off the sidewalk. I freeze for a second, still in shock by my realization. Thankfully I manage to answer before I can look like too much of an idiot.

"Yes?" I answer uncertainly, a smirk on my face to hide the weird feelings going on inside of me.

We make it our way up the parking lot and I scan the vehicles, looking for Dad's truck. I internally curse as I remember I brought the motorcycle today.

"So which one is yours?" Riley asks, like she knows we're getting close.

"Um..." I don't really want to say it in fear she'll back out of the ride. I have to though. I clear my throat. "That one." I point to it and watch her eyes widen with disbelief.

"The motorcycle?"

"Yeah."

I know a lot of people don't care about bikes, but I love this thing. First of all, it's better looking than a lot of people I've seen. It's a sleek, shinny black, sporty design that looks killer on the road, especially on the highway. Second, it's awesome. I don't really know what else I can say.

I should apologize to her for not clarifying the vehicle in which I would be giving her a ride. Instead I say, "Never ridden on one before?"

She shakes her head and for a second she seems hesitant to get on. Then she shrugs. "There's a first time for everything." I grin at her quick compliance and we reach the bike. "Wow, this is an attractive vehicle." She comments. She might the only person who would ever use the word 'attractive' to describe a motorcycle.

"Much like its owner." I wink at her and a laugh is quick to make its way out of her. Despite how nonchalant she's acting about the whole thing, I can't help but notice it sounds a little nervous.

"Alright, first things first." I pull a spare helmet out of the pouch on the side of the bike that Dad told me to keep there for exactly this reason.

I hand the black helmet to her and takes it gingerly, looking it over. I put mine on while she takes her dark hair out of it's bun. It's hangs across her shoulders in wavy locks for a minute until she puts the helmet on over it. I go to put on my jacket until I remember another thing Dad told me to do if I ever gave a 'chick'-his words, not mine- a ride.

"Here." I hold the jacket out to her. She shakes her head immediately. "Don't even think about not taking it." I warn before she can say anything.

She narrows her eyes at me but takes it anyway, slipping it on. It's huge on her but despite the size, it still looks way better on her than it ever will on me. "What are you gonna wear then? Doesn't it get cold?"

I smirk even though she can't see my mouth through the helmet. "You can't freeze when your this hot." I gesture to my body and she rolls her eyes, but even with the helmet on I can tell she's grinning.

Without wasting anymore time, I hop on the bike and look back at her. "Whenever you're ready, R." I don't know why, but the nickname just slipped out of my mouth. Maybe it's because I've heard her friends call her that, I don't know. It sounds right though.

If she's surprised she doesn't show it and climbs on the backless seat behind me with minimal difficulty. "Ready?" I ask, shoving the key in but not turning it yet.

There's a pause. "Uh, what do I hold onto?"

It takes me a second to answer. "Me I guess."

"First time taking a passenger?" She asks, and the laugh is back there again, running through her words. I can't help but grin at it.

"There's a first time for everything." I repeat her earlier words, and start the bike before she can respond.

I put down the visor on my helmet, holding onto the handlebars after it clicks into place. I feel a gentle pressure on my sides that can only be from my passenger holding on, it's a hesitant grip though. That quickly changes as I suddenly pull out of the parking spot, and I feel her arms tighten, wrapping further around me at the sudden movement. I'm pretty sure I hear her curse under the helmet and I chuckle quietly.

She must hear me anyway because her grip loosens and sighs. "Oh shut up." She mutters, her voice muffled by the helmet. I can picture her rolling her eyes. "By the way, how were you planning on getting me home without knowing my address?"

Wow, I forgot the key reason she's on the bike in the first place. "With my incredible psychic skills." I answer.

"Uh huh, I'm sure." She says sarcastically, the proceeds to tell me her address. Which is fortunate because I seriously had no idea.

I turn right and give the bike a little gas so it can get us up to the speed limit fast, causing Riley to grip on tighter again. I can understand her nervousness, and if I'm being totally honest, I'm not completely calm either. This is the first time I've ever had a passenger on the bike after all. Though something in the back of my mind tells me that's not the only reason my stomach is doing flips.

My suit jacket flaps in the wind, the only thing keeping it from blowing up all together is Riley's arms around me that keeps it secure. I go fast, faster than I probably should considering I'm a little inexperienced when it comes to carrying people with me. I have to admit, I'm showing off a little by speeding around corners and just going at a high speed in general. Never is it dangerous though, well I don't think so anyway.

Pretty soon we get to her neighbourhood, and I go slower as we pass by the many small houses crammed into the space. The road is in pretty bad condition and I have to swerve around a couple potholes as we make our way up. After going down a couple streets, Riley points to tiny grey house with worn black shingles. Somebody is pulling into the driveway so I slow down to give them a chance to back in.

A woman with curly brown hair gets out of the car and blatantly eyes us as we approach, her arms crossed. I pull into the driveway and hold the bike up with my foot, giving Riley a chance to get off. The woman comes over slowly.

"Can I help you?" She asks accusingly, obviously not recognizing either of us. I notice how dark her eyes are, they're such a dark brown that you can barely see her pupils. It's surprisingly cool.

"Calm down, it's just me." Riley interjects. She takes off her helmet to reveal a now messy head of hair and a slightly annoyed expression. Me and the woman both look at each other in confusion, each of us wondering who the other is. "Stanley, this is my sister Stephanie. Stephanie, Stanley." Riley gestures between the two of us, handing her helmets back in the process.

I quickly take off my helmet and offer my hand, running my other one through my hair to straighten it out. "Stanley." I introduce.

"As I've gathered." She replies with a smirk. She shakes my hand.

Riley stands off to the side, watching the exchange. I take my hand away from Stephanie's and climb back on the bike. "Well, it's nice to meet you." I nod at Stephanie and she waves back, a little flirtatiously as I shove my helmet back on.

"Thanks for the ride." Riley says as start to back out of the driveway. She starts to walk away but her eyes widen suddenly as I'm almost at the street. "Wait!" She calls, jogging back up and pulling my jacket off in the process. We'd both forgotten she had it on.

She hands it to me and I take it smirking. "I thought you might want to keep it as a souvenir." I tease. She laughs and runs her fingers through her hair to get the tangles out as I shove on the jacket.

"Thanks, again." She says, then breaks into a smile. "It was fun."

I grin widely. "Anytime." I wink at her and she walks backwards with a chuckle. I'm almost onto the road when I hear her sister speak, probably thinking I'm out of earshot.

"He's hot." She says.

"You have a boyfriend." Riley reminds her. I start driving away but still hear what Stephanie responds with.

"So? I can look at the menu, I just can't order anything."

I almost drive into a pothole from laughing. But there's still another thing that's making me grin. Riley didn't deny the first statement.

 **Marina**

The sound of the crowd overwhelms me as I walk into the arena. The two sides are jam packed, our side a sea of orange and brown, the other is mass of black taking up the seats. Almost everyone from the school is here, except maybe a few freshman. Even the parents show up, sitting in their own little section off to the side and far away as they can get from the teenagers. Unfortunately they can only move a couple metres from the screaming kids, as the sections are only separated by a narrow staircase. Because I'm lame, I usually sit with Katerina in the the parent section since I'm not really that into loud cheering. I don't know where to go right now and I stand at the bottom of the stairs lost. Katerina isn't here for this game because of work, so I'm a little stranded at the moment.

I deposited Maren and Riley at the change rooms about fifteen minutes ago and I wasted as much time as I could before coming to the stands to look for a place to ride out the hour and a half-ish of screaming and chants. I start to look for a familiar face in the crowd but stop myself as I realize how stupid it is. I don't talk to anybody other than my two best friends, with an acceptation of Joseph. I won't find anybody to sit with. Defeated, I start to make my way over to the parents section but stop when I feel my phone buzz in my hoodie pocket. It's a school hoodie because I figured I might as well show some spirit.

I look at my phone to find a text from Joseph. _Look up and slightly to your right_ , it says.

I follow his directions and spot him by the rail, where people can stand on a track just above where the seats are. He's standing just above the student section. Relief fills me at finding somewhere to go, because even I would be uncomfortable watching the game alone with everyone screaming around me. He waves his arms wildly, probably drawing a lot of attention from other people as well as me. He only stops when I'm halfway up the steps and is assured I'm coming.

"Well hello, Marina of the Sea." He greets, grinning at me as he moves over to make room on the rail for me to lean on. He's with two other guys who are both dressed in suits, so they must be on the team. Their game is at 8:00.

He steps back so they're in clearer view. I wonder what he's doing until he speaks up. "Guys, this is Marina." He gestures to me, and I just smile, unsure of what to do. As usual he keeps talking to avoid any awkwardness. "Marina, this is John." He points to the blond one closest to him, who gives me a smile and a shakes my hand. Before Joseph, I never thought anyone shook hands in greeting anymore, but I guess there are more people like him. "And that's Stanley." He points to the other hockey player who I already knew was Stanley through Maren's tiffs.

Stanley grins at me. Quite the warm reaction to someone he just met. "Ah, the elusive Marina." He drawls. He ignores my confusion and sticks his hands out for me to shake. I do. "Nice to officially meet you."

"Elusive?" I repeat. I look to Joseph for an answer only to find him staring at the ice with a light shade of pink on his cheeks.

"Well you see..." Stanley starts, leaning ahead of John so he can talk to me. "Joseph here is always talking about you, so it's nice to put a face with the name." He explains.

I blush and Joseph does too, a deeper red now. "I don't always-"

"Yeah you do. Seriously dude, it's annoying." Stanley interrupts his defence with an eye roll. Beside Joseph, John presses his lips together to avoid smiling, but doesn't say anything. Joseph looks down and I feel more heat rise to my face too.

"I-um..." Joseph sends me a helpless look and I can't help but laugh, though I would be lying if I said I didn't feel a little thrill at Stanley's statement. My reaction seems to ease his nerves a little because he grins too, albeit a little sheepishly.

The moment is ended when a huge cheer erupts from our side of the stadium. I can hear people banging on pots and pans held over their heads, and I watch as our hockey team skates onto the ice. The screams go on for long time until all the players are out onto the ice, and some people even remain cheering long after. Since we're in the students section, I cheer with them, my cry blending right in with the rest of the noise.

The cheering stops abruptly as the the other team enters the ice, their jerseys pitch black and a dull red. Booing replaces the noise, so loud that I can barely hear the cheers from the mogadore side. I join in and so does Joseph, John, and Stanley being the loudest.

"Assholes." He mutters once the crowd has calmed down. A long mat is rolled out onto the ice and a few people step out onto it as the teams line up in either side of it. A man grabs a mic and I almost groan. The first game always gets off to a late start because of the opening ceremony, which is always a blast. Note the sarcasm.

The man talks for a good fifteen minutes about the cup, and how the 'friendly' competition is good for the schools. He talks about a bunch of other stuff but I tune out until the captains from each team are called up to do the ceremonial puck drop. Maren goes up for our team and a girl with "SUTEKH" on the back of her jersey skates up for our rivals. It's not the actual puck drop of the game, just a stupid thing where the team who won last year gets to take it and pictures are taken. They leave their helmets off for the cameras, and I can see Maren's lips press together as the other captain slides the puck the her side, but she smiles for the picture anyway.

The national anthem is sung by a student from our school before both teams go to the boxes to get ready to start. They only have a few seconds to talk before the whistle is blown and the starting lineup heads out on the ice. Maren is a part of it and Riley is in goal.

Both teams head to the middle circle where the actual puck drop begins the game. Maren does the face-off for our team while the captain on the other team does theirs as well. The referee drops the puck and after a clashing of sticks, the puck slides into the stick of one of our players. The crowd goes crazy even though it's a little unnecessary since it's only a slight head start. People hold metal pots and bowls above their heads and bang on them with equally loud utensils, making the screaming seem quiet. Our mascot runs around and amps up the crowd when the noise dies off, and some of the girls who take the hockey games way too seriously beat on the glass windows of the rink. Yup, this is a big thing in our school.

"Oh my god, what did that bowl do to her?" Joseph comments and points towards a girl banging on a bowl that's damaged beyond repair. It's so beaten that you would probably be better putting stuff in the bottom at this point.

I laugh, but stop as someone bumps into me from coming up the stairs. I'm right on the corner so people can easily run into me. The man -probably heading to the parents section- didn't even hit me that hard, but I'm immediately met with an apology while I try to apologize to him too. I automatically tell him it's alright and he says sorry again before heading off to wherever he was going with a poutine in his hand.

"That's probably the most Canadian thing to ever happen." I joke to Joseph as I notice him watching what happened. He laughs and nods.

"Yup. You know you're in Canada when you have an apology battle in a hockey rink before one person walks off with a poutine." He grins as I laugh and we both turn back to the game, where Mogadore is coming up to our side of the ice with the puck. It's not long before Maren knocks the puck away and starts off toward the other end of the ice, the rest of the team following. In response, the crowds cheers turn into a deafening roar and I grin, though I refrain from yelling.

Someone else bumps into me again, a little harder this time and I get pushed into Joseph. "Shit, I'm sorry!" A woman cries. She touches my arm. "Are you okay, m'love?" It's not weird around here for someone to call you that.

"Oh yeah, I'm fine." I assure her quickly, smiling.

"Alright, sorry again." She lets go of my arm and smiles before walking away, off toward the parent section. I realize I'm still pressed against Joseph and quickly move over so he has some space.

"Here, I'll get over there." He offers, pushing himself off the rail.

"No, it's alright." I say, but he's already behind and gives me a gentle push to the side so he can take my place on the corner, and I take his place next to John, who doesn't seem to realize we moved and just keeps watching the game intently. "Thanks." I say to Joseph.

"No problem." He smiles and comfortably repositions his arms on the rail.

I notice the strange absence of cheering from our side and find one of the girls from Mogadore skating down the ice with the puck. She's almost across the blue line by our net, but another another girl on her team crosses it before she can, which isn't allowed. The ref blows the whistle to stop the play and the girls skate toward one of the face-off circles to start again.

"Wait, what happened?" Joseph asks, confused.

"Offside." Me and John say the violation at the same time. He hadn't realized I was here and turns his head with shock at my new presence.

"None of the opposing team can pass the blue line before the puck." I explain to Joseph. He nods but I think I just confused him more, and I doubt I could explain it better so I don't even try.

"You know a lot about hockey?" John asks.

"How can I not?" I answer, assuming he knows my two best friends have been in hockey practically since they were born.

"Fair enough." He chuckles. "Although, Joe knows next to nothing and it's pretty much the same situation." He points out.

"Yeah, I don't even think he knows what a slap shot is." Stanley joins in with a smirk, though he doesn't take his eyes off the ice.

"Or a-"

"Okay, we've heard enough." Joseph interrupts, mock glaring at his two friends who laugh. "The point is, I know the basics."

"I doubt it." Stanley cuts in. Joseph lets out an exasperated sigh and I can't help but smile as John and Stanley laugh again. Joseph groans when he sees it.

"Oh no, not you too." He shakes his head then sends an accusing look to his friends. "Trust me, I'm not as bad as they make me out to be." He says to me.

"Oh I trust you." I chuckle. "And for the record, I never thought you were bad at all." I say a little quieter.

I think I blush after I say it but he seems relieved and grins widely before sending a smug look to the guys next me, who are now focused back on the game anyway. I take their lead and watch the game again too, where our team are now surrounding the net on the other side, passing around the puck in an attempt to get a shot on goal. The crowd is cheering them on and some people are banging on the glass, as if that would help.

The girls try to get an open shot but Mogadore's defence is annoyingly good. They must realize this too, because they stop passing and a girl who has the puck rises her stick in the air for a slap shot. The opposing team swarm the area to block the puck, and they would have done a pretty good job if she wasn't faking the shot. Instead she passes the puck across the ice at the last second. Maren is waiting with her stick in the air, and when the puck gets close, she slaps it toward the goal with what looks like enough force to put it right through the net. None of the opposing team was expecting it, including the goalie, and the shot goes in.

Before, I was unsure if the crowd could get any louder, but now I have my answer. I don't mind though, I join in with the screams as many people hold up homemade signs that I can't read since they're facing away from me. The girls on the ice all collide in an embrace that looks almost painful, but their all understandably ecstatic and Riley hits her stick off the ice from the other side on a version of applause. One goal could mean the difference of the game, and the whole tournament for that matter.

I feel an arm wrap around my shoulders, and Joseph pulls me to his side, cheering. "We're gonna win!" He shouts, shaking my me gently. I laugh, more out of nerves than anything, though I am happy they scored. He lets me go to clap and it takes me a minute to lean against the rail again, having lost my train of thought.

I look across the arena to the sea of black, holding up signs of their own, though not congratulatory ones. Some I can't read but I notice a particularly angry guy holding a sign that says "PUCK THE LIONS". Even I have to admit, it's clever. Their signs don't seem to be affecting our school though as everyone continues to scream at ear-busting volumes, and I notice some parents cover their ears. Our mascot dances around by the glass and fires the school up even more while Mogadore's mascot, something called a piken, leans against the top rail on their side. Even though I can't see their face, I can tell they're bored.

Eventually the applause dies down enough to hear my own thoughts and the goal is announced on the loud speaker. "First goal of the tournament scored by number six, Maren Elizabeth. Assisted by number forty one, Emily Blake." The cheering ramps up again for a few seconds after the announcement, but thankfully dies down a lot quicker than before. I notice that John grinned when Maren's name was mentioned, but I did too so I don't really think anything of it. Stanley shakes his head when he hears her name and sighs.

"I don't like her, but she's a good player." He admits to John, who nods a little too enthusiastically.

They start up the game again and the rest of the period is uneventful. When the buzzer sounds, Joseph leans toward me and asks, "You hungry?"

"No, but I _could_ eat." I reply. He laughs and asks the guys if they want anything. They reply with no, which makes sense because they'll be playing in a bit. Joseph and I make our way to the canteen, which is now packed with people from both schools. I grimace when I see the line.

"Is it really worth it?" I ask.

Joseph nods immediately. "Oh, absolutely." He replies grinning, but it tones down a little as he looks around. "It might have been wise to come before the break though."

I nod too. "You can say that again." I agree.

"It might have been wise-" he begins again but stops as I groan and shove his shoulder. He grins teasingly at me. "I was just doing as you said." He defends.

I roll my eyes. "Yeah I got that."

"You don't look amused." He notes, the grin still there. " _I_ thought it was funny."

"I'm laughing on the inside, trust me." I reply dryly. He looks at me for a minute, a half-smile on his face that might actually make my heart beat faster then when he's grinning, though it's hard to tell. He keeps looking until a smile makes its way onto my face too, though mine is a mix of nervousness and confusion. "What?"

His smile widens until it's a full one now, making his eyes light up. It's kind of mesmerizing. "Oh, you just get uncomfortable when people stare at you. It's funny." He chuckles at the look I give him.

"Oh yeah, hilarious." I say flatly, rolling my eyes a little. He laughs properly now and I grin breaks out on my face too.

"Well, I also enjoy looking at you." He seems confident at first but then his eyes widen. "Not in a creepy stalker kind of way, obviously." He says quickly. I laugh to hide my nerves and he suddenly seems more serious. "I honestly don't get how everyone doesn't stare at you." He says in a quieter tone. "I mean, you're beautiful, Marina."

His eyes hold mine and it looks like he wants to say or do something else, but he refrains. He smiles kindly and shrugs. "Sorry, but it's true." He says as though he couldn't help it. Heat rises to my face and I look down to hide a smile building. That made me a lot happier then I'd like to admit. It would be a nice feeling if my stomach would stop doing flips.

"I'm pretty sure that's the first time you've said my name without adding 'of the sea' at the end of it." I joke stupidly, feeling both nervous and thrilled at the same time. It's a weird mix.

He laughs. "Well it's a great name. It would be a shame not to use it." The teasing smile is back now. "That doesn't mean I'll stop using the nickname though." He reminds me. I roll my eyes as he winks at me, but he must know I'm not serious by the grin I can't seem to shake from my face.

"What does your name mean I wonder?" I say, trying to get the topic off me.

"Meh." He shrugs, not seeming interested. "Probably not anything cool like the ocean."

"Every name means something." I remind him, doing my best impression of Mr. Ricardo. Joseph laughs and raises his eyebrows.

"Wow, that was a great impression. Sounded just like him." He jokes. I grin and he startles me by stepping up and ordering our food. I didn't even know we were so close. It's either they were really fast or time just went by super quick.

He orders two plates of fries and two drinks. I try to give him money for mine but he refuses it every time, despite my effort. I should have known he would have refused to let me pay for my own food, as tragically kind as he is.

By the time we get back to our place at the rail, the second period is just starting. They do the puck drop and this time Mogadore takes it, causing our side of the arena to not cheer as much as usual, though some still do.

It seems uneventful until about eight minutes in, when a Mogadore girl gets a straight path to the net when she caught the puck at the centre line. Our defence can't catch her in time and she gets up to the net. Riley readies herself, coming out a couple feet from the net so she can move back. The girl fakes left but shoots the other way, aiming for the top right corner. Riley snaps her glove up at the last minute, and we all cheer as she makes the difficult save.

All of the noise quiets as the girl, unable to stop from the speed she was going, smashes right into the goal, pushing Riley into the net with the player almost on top of her, the net pushed off its holders. They land in a heap and both teams immediately rush over to either help or fight each other, there's no in between really. The girl involved in the collision scrambles off our goalie and looks as though she's talking to her. Riley sits up, and slides herself out of net right before the teams arrive. The ref pushes past everyone and talks to the two girls to ask sure everything is alright. It looks good, so everyone goes back to normal. Well except for one of our players.

Maren looks like she's on a mission as she skates from behind the net after helping to put it back in place. Her sights are set on the Mogadore girl, and she would have gotten her if Riley wasn't quick to grab her by the back of her jersey. Maren almost falls off her skates, making some people in the crowd chuckle, including myself. They exchange some words and with a shake of her head, Maren grudgingly skates away, still looking at the girl though.

The rest of the game is uneventful really. Nobody else scores and no other collisions happen or fights. The teams are pretty even really and I find it impossible to predict who'll win the tournament. I still think it'll be us though, but I'm a bit biased.

I assume they'll want to go home and since Riley is my ride, I know I need to go down by the change rooms to wait. I bid Joseph farewell, but before I can get more then a few steps away, he calls out to me. I turn around to se him jogging down the steps hurriedly, as if I were already past the point of no return.

"You know, we should hang out sometime." He says, coming down to the same stair as me, but standing in the other side of the rail that separates the two halves. He's cutting off traffic but doesn't seems to care.

"We _do_ hang out." I remind him, confused.

He shakes his head. "I'm not talking about tutoring or in school or whatever." He smiles hopefully. "I mean, we should go get a coffee sometime or something. No French or skating. Just, you know... us." He looks into my eyes and I notice the way he chews on his bottom lip. Maybe a nervous habit?

Thankfully I manage to keep my grin from splitting my face in two as I reply. "I'd like that."

His eyes widen with what looks like surprise. Why? Did he actually think I might decline? He grins so wide I can see his back row of teeth. "Sweet. I mean-" he struggles for the proper words and I laugh.

"See you later." I say, starting to walk back down the stairs again the free up traffic on my side.

"Indeed you will, Sea girl!" He calls. I can't help but laugh as I reach the bottom of the stairs and go into the lobby.

I can't keep the grin from my face the rest of the night. What is happening to me?

 **I don't know why, but when I uploaded this it couldn't put in the page breaks or the lines for the AN. I'll try to fix it tomorrow but thats why it's like that in case y'all were wondering. Thanks for reading and let me know what you think!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hey guys, it's been a while...**

 **Yeah, I honestly don't know what else I can say at this point. I'll still say I'm sorry though, because I am. I hate to keep all of you waiting, especially when you give me such great reviews all the time, and for that I thank you. You are all seriously awesome :)**

 **Reviews:**

 **Guest (July 16)- Thanks for your feedback and I honestly wasn't sure about the Five/Nine ship either. I just didn't know who else to put Stanley with since Ella is too young and I love Jix so Maren wouldn't be an option, so I just thought, 'when in doubt make an OC'. It won't be changing now but I know where your coming from and thanks for the great review :)**

 **Guest (July 29)- Good question. I have no idea what the ship name for Riley and Stanley would be, anyway their names can be put together doesn't really sound that great lol. Maybe just Nive for Nine and Five? Or call them whatever you like :) thanks for the review!**

 **Anyway, I hope that satisfies the questions and concerns, and thanks everyone for the lovely reviews! Y'all are the best and hope you enjoy the chapter :)**

 **Maren**

History, has recently taken over the top spot for the most hated thing in my existence. And by recently, I mean sometime between now and the start of yet another lecture on World War One, which we've been learning about for five years in a row now. This lesson is currently being broadcasted through the amazingly monotoned voice of Mr. Perry, who looks almost as uninterested in the subject as me. I vaguely wonder what terrible force propelled this poor man to become a history teacher.

His voice washes clean over me, in through one ear and out the other. I do try to retain information though, especially since the word 'test' slipped through to my consciousness about a half hour ago. I reposition myself on the hard seat beneath me, leaning forward to rest my elbows on the desk, then my chin in my hands. Even knowing it won't help with my focus, I squint my eyes despite my perfect vision. I can't help but think I must look comical. If I cared what anyone thought about me I might move. After a few moments of failure to remember anything from the last forty minutes, I realize I'm focusing too hard on focusing, thus drawing my focus away from the stuff I'm actually supposed to be focused on. I nod to myself as though the thought made sense.

I lean back in defeat and notice some others trying the same tactic as me, no doubt having the same result. Although, there are a few people that seem to be interested, the guy in the seat next to me included. I watch as Sam writes feverishly, his eyes glancing back up every few seconds to the power point on the board that I weirdly didn't notice before. Has that seriously been there the whole time? I silently thank our teacher for putting these notes on his website. If he didn't, I would find studying quite the struggle. Well, more of a struggle then usual anyway.

Instead of looking at the material like Sam, my eyes continuously bounce from our teacher to the clock. The fact I have a hockey game today isn't helping my focus either, especially since the outcome of this specific match could either mean victory or another game on Friday. As much as I love playing hockey, even I wouldn't want the tournament to go on any longer if we could win it tonight. And even though the game is at 6:00, I'm still just as eager to get out of here as I would be if it was right after school.

"Are you always this anxious, or is it only in history?" Sam asks, arching a dark eyebrow at the pencil I'm violently tapping on the desk. I stop when I notice a few people sending annoyed glances in my direction.

"Mostly just history, but it's not limited to one subject." I reply.

Sam laughs quietly, still aware of our teacher that's struggling to keep our attention as it is. "Well I don't doubt that. Maybe you should try taking some notes to pass the time." He suggests.

Now it's my turn to laugh. "That was a joke right?"

"Yes." He clarifies, smiling now. He looks back to the front of the classroom and notices the slide has changed, he immediately gets his pencil moving again.

"Why would I write stuff down when I can get it on the website?" I continue. "Plus, I won't be killing any trees."

"Ah, so it's about the trees." He says. I nod with mock seriousness and he laughs. "Never took you to be a nature buff." He teases, finished writing down his notes in what must be record time.

"There was an entire paragraph up there and your finished?" I ask in disbelief.

"Yeah." He replies, looking puzzled. "Why?"

I just shake my head. "Never mind."

The bell rings and I shoot up from my seat, almost hitting my knee off the desk in the process. I grab my books which are in the same position as when I put them there, while Sam has to pack up the books that were open on his desk.

"You coming to the games tonight?" I ask him, because I'm pretty sure leaving without a word would be considered rude. Especially since we were having a small conversation.

"Yeah, I'll be there." He replies, then smiles. "Don't look so surprised."

"Right." I say and try to put on a neutral expression, though I'm finding it hard to hide my shock. I wouldn't have expected Sam out of all people to watch sports for fun. "Well, see you there I guess." I start to back away from him. He waves so I assume it's socially acceptable to leave now.

I nearly run out of the classroom, but have to resign myself to a slower pace as I battle the crowds in the halls. On my way to my locker, I hear lots of people excitedly talking about both games for tonight. I'll probably stay for the guys game after mine tonight since they lost their first one, so it's make or break for them. Some may think the boy's game would be more violent, but the most fights actually happen in the girls games. I'm usually responsible for at least a few, but all of them deserve it. In my mind anyway.

By the time I get my bag from my locker and get out through the door, the parking lot is already packed with everyone trying to get out all at the same time. Thankfully Marina is driving today, so she won't get nearly as frustrated with the slow progress as I would. It's not very easy to spot her red sedan since red seems to be an extremely popular colour for cars. I eventually find it though and go for the back door since I was out too late to claim the passenger seat.

"Took you long enough." Marina chides when I get in.

"Yeah sorry, next time I'll just knock down everyone in my way to get here faster." I say sarcastically as I do up the seatbelt. Marina starts to move with the crowd before I have it done up, not that it matters anyway. Slow moving traffic is hardly ever a site for fatal accidents.

"Sounds like something you would do actually." She retorts.

"True." I agree. She laughs, though I scowl when I see how slow our progress is going. "So, are you guys coming over?"

I see Riley arch an eyebrow in the side mirror. "Is that just code for 'Maren needs help with math homework'?" She asks, looking at Marina who nods, agreeing.

"Well now that you mention it, I _do_ have a worksheet..." I trail off and she chuckles.

"I don't know, I'll have to take a look at my schedule. I'm a busy person."

"Right." I say sarcastically.

"I am!" She protests, but her expression betrays her.

"You know I can see you in the mirror right?"

Her expression goes flat. "I wasn't aware actually." She replies, looking cautiously into the mirror and shifting uncomfortably. "Now I feel violated."

Marina and I laugh, Riley joining us in less then a second. "Okay, if we're going over to your place we're going to have to leave at around five so we have time to pick up Ella and get your guys' gear..." Marina says, moving the car forward as she thinks about what else could set us back. Always the responsible one. "And is Katerina going?"

"No, she's got work again." I reply, already bored with plan making. "Relax, we'll get there on time." I assure her.

"Uh huh, famous last words." She says, disbelieving.

"Wow, I could actually _feel_ the confidence from back here." I joke, though she has a right to be skeptical of our time management. Between all the classes I'm late to and Riley's last minute rushing, Marina is by far the most timely one out of us all.

"Should I be confident when I know who I'm dealing with?" She points out, earning a shrug from me and a laugh from Riley. She won't argue either even though she's always on time, we both know Marina is referring to her tendency to leave things to the last second.

"Look, we'll make it." I sigh. "It doesn't really matter since we have warmups and and extra half hour anyway, why is it a big deal?"

She shrugs. "I just want to get there on time." She says simply, turning her head away to look out the window.

I roll my eyes. "Don't worry, we'll get there in enough time to keep Joseph from waiting on you." I tell her, rolling my eyes. I smile and Riley laughs when Marina's eyes widen and a light shade of red coats her cheeks. I didn't see them together the first game but I suspected something was up with the way she acted afterwards. She was too happy, it was unsettling.

"Okay... no." She holds up a finger as she tries to come up with another reason for her worrying.

"Strong defence there, Mar." Riley teases, a grin on her face.

Marina rolls her eyes but laughs anyway, it sounds more like a giggle and I roll my eyes too. Like me, she's probably been thinking about the game the whole day, but she's excited for a very different reason.

"Oh whatever, I'm happy you found love and crap." I mutter, glad for her despite myself.

"It's not love." She scoffs, looking both ways on the road now that we've finally made it up to the intersection. She turns right.

"Did he buy you food?" Riley asks.

Marina looks confused. "Yes." She answers slowly.

"So things are getting serious." I put in jokingly. I expect her to laugh or blush again but instead she just shrugs, a grin on her face that she's obviously trying to tone down but failing.

"Maybe." She replies.

My eyebrows shoot up and Riley and I share a look of confusion in the side mirror. This is the first time Marina's admitted that a relationship could actually be on the horizon with this guy. Something must have happened for her to be this happy about it.

"Wait, did he ask you out?" I ask hurriedly. She shrugs again, cheerily looking at the road. I take it as a yes.

"That's why you were all smiley after the game." Riley exclaims triumphantly. Marina turns red again in an instant, but the grin doesn't go away completely.

"I was not 'smiley'." She mutters, shaking her head.

"Yes you were, and it was annoying." I cut in. I talk again before she can try to protest, "So when are going out with him?"

"Well, I don't know yet."

"So he asked you if you wanted to go out, but didn't actually make plans to do so?"

"Not yet."

"Hmm, interesting." I say slowly.

She immediately glances back at me with a warning look, her mood changing around quickly. "Don't you dare say a word to him about it." She turns back around to focus on the road, but not without narrowing her eyes at me threateningly. I can't help but laugh at the sight.

"Don't worry, I'll keep an eye on her." Riley assures her. I laugh at that too.

"Thank you, and we're done talking about this by the way." Marina says, her excitement about the subject short lived.

Riley nods, seeming content with the outcome of this exchange while Marina turns on the radio. It's comes out on a burst of static and she starts to change it to a different channel.

"So..." I start, leaning up so I'm closer to her seat and taking the radio mishap as a chance to continue analyzing her soon to be boyfriend. "What kind of food did he buy you?"

Marina groans in annoyance, I smirk and Riley stifles a laugh. "Fries." Marina replies, making an obvious effort to change the channel faster.

"Just fries?"

"Yes, just fries."

"Okay." I reply, leaning back so I can sit in the seat normally again. As suspected, Marina is confused with my easy submission and stops playing with the radio to send me a suspicious glance over her shoulder.

"What?"

"The guy couldn't even spend the extra dollar to get you a poutine. Just sayin."

Riley looks out the window to hide an amused smile, otherwise staying out of it, like she usually does when I start to annoy Marina. I shrug when Marina sends another glance back at me, this time her expression is a mix of exasperation and shock.

"It was a nice gesture!" She defends.

I hold up my hands in surrender even though she's looking back at the road now. "Okay." I say again.

I grin when she makes an annoyed huff and goes back to the radio. She finally gets it to the right station and music starts playing through the speakers, quietly though. Nobody says anything for a minute.

"I mean, did he even get you a drink?"

"Maren, I swear to god."

It doesn't take much longer to get to my house and mom is just leaving as we get in through the door. She apologizes again for missing my game, and again I tell her it's okay. All morning she's been apologizing, like I'll fall into a deep state of depression because she missed this one event. She's been present at almost all of my games since I've been in hockey so a couple of absences aren't going to cause me a mental breakdown.

We make our way to the basement, being teenage girls we naturally gravitate towards the huge couch and TV settled down there. Despite the temptation of flipping through channels, I don't waste much time before starting in on my math worksheet, knowing that if I delay working on it for now it means never looking at it again. I don't actually need much help with it, but it's more than convenient to have a math genius at my disposal if I ever need anything. Marina eventually turns on the TV and what looks like a soap opera flashes on the screen before it's immediately replaced with another channel. I think it's animal planet.

They talk and I half listen, sometimes making a comment, but I stay primarily focused on math. I'm on the last question when I see the screen change out of my periphery, going from a light sand to a dark figure. I look up to see the face of a bat looking into the camera, something about it looks oddly familiar.

"Does that look familiar to you guys?" I ask, tilting my head sideways as if it would help.

"It looks like a bat." Marina supplies helpfully.

"Yeah, no kidding." I reply. She laughs but I keep studying the bat, trying to latch onto something in my memory that relates to it. Why do I feel like I recognize a bat? "Holy shit, it looks exactly like a girl on the Mogadore team!" I point at the TV, relieved I figured it out.

"Well that's cruel, that thing is just plain ugly." Marina tilts her head at the TV as well, probably trying to figure out how a person's face could possibly relate to what's on the screen.

"Exactly." I say. "Seriously, she was terrible. I can't remember her name but she was annoying me all last game. Something like Du Ra or..."

"Oh my god I know who your talking about." Riley laughs. "Dun Ra. Phiri Dun Ra."

"Yes!" I point at her over Marina who's sitting between us on the couch. "Now, is that not the evilest fucking name you've ever heard?" I question truthfully.

Marina chuckles. "Honestly, all their names sound pretty evil if you ask me."

"Right?" Riley agrees. "And I did see see bat woman get you with a few dirty hits. I'm surprised you didn't punch her."

"If she keeps it up today I will." I threaten, smirking. "Maybe I'd do her a favour by messing up her face."

"Please don't." Marina says. "You could get kicked out of the game you know."

"Not if she starts it." I reason, looking for any reason that would be good enough reason to justify a few hits. Marina raises her eyebrows at me. I sigh but I know she's right. "Don't worry, nobody is gonna get punched." I concede. Riley arches an eyebrow at me and I realize I've started cracking my knuckles. It's a bad habit of mine, but not very confidence inspiring considering what I just said.

I pick up my pencil again and stare at the unfinished math question tiredly. This is just terrible. I lean my head back on the back cushion of the couch. "Jesus, it feels like this is taking forever." I groan.

"Well math isn't usually known to go fast." Marina replies, seeming unconcerned while she continues to watch the TV.

"I know, but it just seems like I've been at this way too long. What time is it anyway?" I ask.

Both of my friends just shrug, neither making a move for their phones to check. I take it upon myself and grunt as I feel around for a bit before figuring out I'm actually sitting on the device. I shift so I can get it and lazily look at the screen. My tired annoyance is replaced with panic when I see the time, and I bolt upright from my lazy position. Marina and Riley look at my wide eyed expression confused.

"We're late." I explain quickly. "Very late."

We all shoot up at the same time, almost falling down in our haste, and I sprint up the steps taking two at a time. Once upstairs I rush to my room and grab my hockey bag off the bed before running back out again, narrowly avoiding the doorframe. At the speed I'm going, it would have done quite a bit of damage if I hit it. Marina and Riley are already waiting at the door when I get to the porch and they head out in a rush when they see me coming, leaving the door open. I shove my shoes on halfway, and I just remember my keys as I step outside, cursing as I have to double back for them. I skip the last step on my way down the bridge -which is easier said then done since both shoes are hanging off my feet- and finally jump into the car which Marina has thankfully already started up. She backs out of the driveway before I even have my door closed.

"We were supposed to be there fifteen minutes ago." Riley says.

"I know." I answer, shoving my bag on the other seat and doing up my seatbelt as Marina swiftly drives down the street. "We could still get there for warmups if we go fast." It might not be true since Riley lives ten minutes away from here and almost twenty from the rink, though we might get to her house in less than that with the speed Marina is going.

"And _this_ is why we have to plan it out." She mutters. I don't argue. I don't see the point since she's right.

Despite Marina's speeding, it still takes close on twenty five minutes to get Riley's gear, pick up Ella, and finally make our way to the rink. Despite warmups already being started, we still must have gotten here in record time. It's actually pretty impressive. We burst in through the doors like we're on a mission, though we don't look very threatening. Three panicked teenagers and an twelve year old girl busting through the door is hardly a triumphant entrance. Our group splits quickly, Marina and Ella going for the stands while Riley and I head for the change room. Of course there's nobody there when we enter, everybody is already out on the ice. It only takes me a minute to get my gear on but takes Riley a little longer because of her goalie pads and stuff.

"That's the most I've ever rushed in my life." I mutter as we make our way down the hallway to the ice.

"Welcome to my mornings." She chuckles.

There's only two minutes left to warmups when we get out on the ice and the crowd actually cheers when we get into view, apparently happy we showed. Our coach seems to have a different reaction that the captain and goalie turned up late and eyes us with a questioning stare as we make our way across. We go to her right away to avoid being singled out from the rest of the team later.

"Nice of you to show up." She scolds. "If you weren't aware, you were supposed to be here about forty minutes ago." She raises her eyebrows at us, which is adult language for she wants an explanation.

"Sorry, we were doing some homework and lost track of time." I explain before Riley can even try to defend us. She's a terrible liar and would not do a great job pleading our case, even if the statement is half true.

Our coach huffs angrily, though obviously relieved we showed. "Your lucky you got here when you did. Now go do some warmups before you're completely out of time." She waves us away curtly before walking down the box to end the conversation.

We nod and start some stretches off to the side. On the other side of the ice the name on the back of a jersey stands out to me. _Dun Ra_. I shake my head to physically tear my eyes away before I can get to worked up. It doesn't take much to draw the anger into me. All I have to do is call up the memory of being shoved hard into the boards and her stick in front of my skates, trying to trip me up. Of course, she did all this while the referees were turned away, being more clever then I'd like to admit. Anger builds in me again and I realize my eyes have drifted back to that side of the ice.

I break away from the wall of the rink to take some shots, but the buzzer sounds before I have a chance, so I settle for pulling the net away from the edge as the zamboni goes around the ice.

"Need some help with that?" I look up to find nobody but the devil herself in front of me. Phiri.

"Nope." I reply shortly. She laughs and I grit my teeth as she positions herself on the other side of the net. Usually two people from the same team work on the net, but apparently she felt the need to skate all the way up here to help me with something I could have handled myself.

She stays silent as the zamboni circles around, 'helping' me push the net to the edge of the rink where it won't be run over. "Good luck tonight, Maren." She says.

The fact that she knows my name isn't nearly as infuriating as the a hard clap on the shoulder she gives me as she starts to skate back over to her side. I manage to stay up straight but the force of it actually almost makes me stumble. I consider taking back what I told Marina about me not fighting tonight. She looks back as she skates back to her side, a smirk on her face that's not hard to see through the helmet.

Yeah. This will be fun.

- _page break_ -

Cheers erupts from the stands, people blow into horns and beat pots and bowls, making as much noise as humanly possible to celebrate the goal that was just scored. There's only one problem; the noise isn't coming from our side. Next to our net, the girls in black uniforms collide in an embrace, while Riley defeatedly slides the puck out of our net with her stick, shooting it towards the ref so he can pick it up. It was mess by the net when the puck went in, everyone was crowded around the goal. All I could see was a mass of bodies when the buzzer went off, the puck somehow finding it's way into the net. The captain is the one who scored, which I would much prefer over Phiri. I don't have a problem with Mogadore's captain and she doesn't seem to have a problem with me, but that still doesn't mean I'm content with this outcome.

It's the first goal of the night with eight minutes left in the second period and still another fifteen minutes left after that in the third. There's still lots of time to tie it up, though it doesn't mean we will. Both teams are painfully evenly matched and we all know it. At this point, scoring a goal comes down to being in the right place at the right time and has not so much to do with skill.

Back on the ice, the girls that were out for that goal skate by Riley and tap her pads with their sticks, a respect thing but also a message of 'good job'. Some stop to exchange a couple words but others drift around the box, waiting to see if they need to come in. When the Mogadore girls start to skate back to their side our coach calls our line-up in and sends out another. She must see my anger because she puts me out on the ice, probably assuming my rage will help me. It usually does. I think I might have some anger issues.

I skate over to the net when I get out and stop next to Riley. She takes off her glove to grab her water bottle and lifts up her helmet to take a drink, her face a little flushed with the burst of exertion.

"What happened? I couldn't see." I ask.

"I don't know, I thought I had the puck covered but I guess..." She speaks around the water bottle in her mouth and shrugs. "Might've went in by the post judging by where it was in the net." She points to the right side of the net as she turns to put the water back and pulls her helmet down again.

I nod but don't say anything, knowing after more than ten years of this she doesn't need to be consoled or anything. I look back to the other end of the ice and notice that bat lady has made an appearance on her side.

Riley notices too and chuckles. "Try not to kill her." She advises.

"Yeah." I reply tersely, already angry.

The ref blows the whistle and positions himself at centre ice, signalling the continuation of the period. Riley wishes me luck and I give her a tap on the helmet before skating to the centre. Phiri is waiting there, being the assistant captain she has to do the face-off right now since Sutekh isn't on the ice. She smirks at me as she has been all night when she's not pushing me around. I've only retaliated once so far, shoving her into the boards with more force than necessary right after she did it to me.

"Maren." She greets, enjoying using my first name to annoy me more. We both get in position for the face-off.

"Phiri." I reply through my teeth.

My knowledge of her first name must startle her, because she doesn't react right away when the puck is dropped and I'm able to knock it behind me to my waiting team members. She makes what sounds like a growl but I'm already backing up and looking for an open spot.

I don't know who's got the puck, but she's doing a pretty good job avoiding a bunch of Mogadore's defence. Eventually she gets blocked in and has to pass to number twenty six, a girl named Olivia Fields. It would be easy to get an open spot if Phiri wasn't constantly on my back, practically attaching herself to me like velcro. I shove her off me a couple times so she develops the strategy to push her way in front of me, blocking my path like a gate keeper. Around her, I see Olivia on the other side of the ice, boxed in by a couple players, she can't find anyone to pass it to.

Phiri looks over her shoulder every once in a while to make sure I'm still there, as if her pushing against me isn't reminder enough. Olivia finally manages to pass it to another one of our players who's right up by the net, and instantly surrounded by defence. She won't be getting a shot in but did make quite the distraction. With my oppressor now focused on the net, I'm able to slip out from behind her and go up the ice a little since she would notice me up at the goal, and I don't think I'd be getting through the wall that is Mogadore's defence anytime soon. But it's still freedom.

Surrounded, our player sends the puck out of the fray in a last attempt to pass it, even if she doesn't know if anyone is there. It seems like I was able to escape Phiri at just the right time. I intercept the puck and start racing towards the net. Out of the corner of my eye, I see that Dun Ra has finally caught on but she's won't catch me now. I wind up just before the crowd assembled in front of the net and shoot at the goal with all my strength. The goalie manages to get their hand up in time, but I shot the puck so hard that she can't hold on and it goes in the net anyway.

I grin as the buzzer goes off and I slam against the boards, having swerved out of the way of the mob in front of the net earlier. It's not long before my teammates join me, slamming against the boards themselves as we all collide. I only hear the crowd cheering now even though they probably were doing so the whole time. I catch a glimpse of the clock and know Mogadore must be pissed that we tied the game up in under a minute. I smirk at Phiri and she turns away.

I go in the box after that, but only for a minute before coach sends me out again when Mogadore comes up to our end of the ice. Sadly, Phiri is still out here, but she hasn't noticed me yet. I stick to the sidelines as the Mogs desperately try to regain their lead, shooting shot after shot at the net whenever they have the chance. They're sloppy attempts though and Riley deflects them easily. I manage to get the puck and start skating around the back of our net to gain momentum for my skate across the ice. I get around the net but I don't even make it to the blue line before someone crashes into my side with enough forced to knock the wind out of me and I'm pinned against the glass. When I look up, I'm not really surprised to find none other then the devil herself.

"That's for ruining our lead." Phiri growls. Still pinned to the boards, I can't do anything as she slides the puck away from me. I can do a lot when she starts skating away though.

In an instant I have my stick in front of her feet as she makes a break for the net. I pull back hard she goes sprawling over the slippery surface, my stick hooked on her skate.

" _That's_ for being a bitch." I spit.

A whistle is blown because tripping is a penalty, but I can't find it in me to care. The refs start to make their way over but Phiri jumps up before either of them can get close. Apparently she hasn't had enough because she grins as she comes toward me. She loses the gloves and I do the same as she goes for her helmet.

"You thought that would keep my down?" She taunts, laughing as she pulls off her helmet.

"Nope." I reply, dropping my helmet before looking her square in the eye. "But this might."

My hand, already formed into a fist, connects hard with Phiri's jaw. The punch had enough force to knock her down, but I latch onto her jersey to keep her up and pull her into the next hit. Still dazed from my attack, she throws a sloppy punch of her own but I manage to lean back in time to avoid being hit. I'm about to duck out of the way of another hit when I find I can't move backwards. Somebody is keeping me in place from behind, and the flash of black and purple tells me it's a mog girl. She holds me upright and Phiri's punch glances off my cheek. Two against one. Well that's hardly fair.

As soon as I have that thought, I find myself stumbling back as the girl is ripped off me. I don't need to look back to know it's Riley. Even if she doesn't like my tendency for violence I know she'll have my back, even if she thinks it's stupid. Marina would do the same too. It just how we work.

Now with the girl gone, Phiri and I tear into each other. The whole thing is ruthless, a mess of arms and stumbling bodies and yelling as we both go for hits at the same time, not caring if we get punched or not. I throw two games worth of annoyance into each punch. She gives me a hard push in the chest, aiming to knock me over but instead I only go stumbling before she immediately starts to come after again. Before she can get very far, a ref locks his arms around her tight and jerks her back a couple feet. She still struggles though, her face scrunched up in rage as she tries to jerk towards me. Just as I recover from the shove and am about to go back for her, I'm grabbed the same way and we're pulled apart, both of us writhing and spitting at each other like wild animals.

The ref lets go of me once He's deemed me calm enough to refrain from ripping out Phiri's throat. "I'm going to have to ask you to get off the ice." He tells me sternly.

"What?" I exclaim. "This isn't even my fault! She been getting away with illegal stuff all game and _I_ have to leave?" I notice my fists balling up again and it takes a warning look from the man to bring me back to my senses.

"As I saw it, you tripped her up, then threw the first punch." He explains calmly, probably used to dealing with unruly hockey players. "You are the one in the fault, and you will not be coming back on the ice for the rest of the game." He starts to usher my seething self toward the door but stops when Riley comes up and calls out to him.

"Sir, with all due respect, that other player should have gotten about twenty penalties tonight." She defends, wiping blood from her lip. It's split open, leading me to believe she participated in a fight of her own after pulling the Mog girl off me. "She had it coming."

"Fucking right she had it coming." I mutter. The ref sends me a hard look.

"Be that as it may," He says tiredly and points at me. "this one is in the fault, and will be leaving the ice."

Riley nods defeated but smiles tightly to the ref anyway. "Yeah, I thought so. Anyway here." She passes me my gloves and helmet and I take them with a gruff thank you. I'll probably be more grateful for her help when I cool off, but for now I can't feel anything but slowly waning anger.

The crowd boos at the ref as he pushes me toward the door. While I'm going, I prod at the skin where Phiri's fist got me and find it's a little sore but not too bad. The bruise will hardly be noticeable, if I even get one. Thankfully it doesn't feel like I'm brandishing any more injuries. It clear who the winner of this fight was. I get to the door and the crowds noise turn into cheers as I walk down the hallway that passes under the stands. I can't help but smile.

My school is still booing the ref when I sit in the change room, out of sight now, but I would be lying if I said the limited quiet wasn't a relief. My head pounds now, a sign I'm calming down. After a few breaths and a reminder to myself that the ref was just doing his job, I slowly start to take my gear off, starting with my jersey and padding, then untying my skates. I deliberately draw out the process to give myself time to cool off before I face the public. Just as I pack up my bag, the buzzer for the end of the second period sounds and I figure it would be a good time to leave the change room, with the crowds obscuring my entrance.

When I get out, I'm not surprised to find Marina leaning against the wall outside the door. She shakes her head with mock disapproval when I step out, smiling all the same.

"You just couldn't help it, could you?" She chuckles.

"It's not my fault." I defend. I start going down the hallway that leads out of the change rooms. "She was pretty much _asking_ to get hit."

Marina laughs but surprisingly doesn't say anything more. She would usually be the first person to ask if it was worth it, and probably get me to regret starting the fight in hope I would learn. But even peaceful Marina must find justification in what I did this time.

"What? No wise words today? No 'violence is not the key'?" I tease, repositioning the strap of my bag on my shoulder.

She rolls her eyes, easily keeping up with my slow stride. "I've never said that in my life, let alone to _you_ of all people." She retorts, then shrugs. "And honestly, Phiri Dun Bitch deserved it."

I grin and and she laughs at my appreciation of the nickname. We make our way up to the stands and I'm not surprised to see Joseph standing at the edge of a rail, waving as we approach and obviously waiting for us. Or rather, waiting for Marina. Ella is there too next to two other guys that even from behind I recognize as John and Stanley. Joseph grins affectionately at Marina and I resist the urge to roll my eyes as she stares back, completely infatuated by him. Well that might be a strong word but she's definitely distracted to say the least.

I clear my throat to get Marina's attention, feeling awkward. "Um, can I have the keys. I'm gonna put my bag in the car." I say, hoping I'll be able to slip back later when Joseph's grin has toned down a little. His happiness is a little much if I'm being honest, but Marina doesn't seem to mind.

She nods retrieves the keys out of her sweater pocket before handing them to me. I quickly head towards the main lobby type area of the arena before I can be spotted by anyone else in the group. I'd rather not have to make an appearance twice. The zamboni is halfway done smoothing the ice over as I make my way out so I know I'll be able to get back in lots of time to watch the last period.

Unfortunately, the crowds of people that mingle around during the break don't hide me well enough, and I can't move fast enough to avoid some stares and the scattered congratulatory comment. Everyone knows I'm not really a people person so most of my peers just silently let me pass after acknowledging my presence. I also can't move fast enough to escape some menacing glares from pretty much the entire Mogadore student population, identifiable by their dark clothes and cold faces.

After disposing of my hockey bag in the car, my journey coming back in draws much less attention and I make my way back to where Marina is without incident. I slide into a spot between Ella and John, the former gives me a wide grin in greeting when she notices my presence and I can't help but smile back. I don't like most kids her age but she's obviously an acception.

"You beat the crap out her!" She says excitedly. "That was awesome." She nods as though agreeing with what she said.

"I'm glad _someone_ thinks so." I mutter, leaning my elbows on the rail. Ella giggles and I grin at her. Marina says something to her, I think it might be about her language. I almost laugh. As if 'crap' is a bad word.

"Well, I also thought it was pretty awesome so I guess that makes two." John cuts in. I look over to find him to find him with a kind smile on his face that suits him so well. He has a black suit jacket hung over his arm and the sleeves of his dress shirt pulled up to just below his elbows, achieving the look of casual and classy at the same time. I try to keep my gaze casual, but I can't help admiring how well everything goes together. _Damn_ , he looks good. "And I'm sure we're not the only ones judging by the reaction you got." He gestures around at the crowd.

"I don't think Dun Ra shares that sentiment." I reply.

"I think you broke her nose." He chuckles.

"She almost broke mine a couple of times."

"Really?" He leans on the railing next to me and eyes my face with a studious gaze. I raise my eyebrows at him, struggling to keep a straight face as I meet his eyes. "And yet, you walk off without any battle scars." He notes, the corner of his mouth lifted up.

"Actually, she did get me right here." I admit, poking the spot where I barely managed to escape a full punch.

"Wow. How tragic." He feigns concern. "Meanwhile, I think your victim over there is gonna need a plastic surgeon to fix her face. But please, keep nursing your fatal wound while we all pray for your recovery." He says dramatically.

I roll my eyes but can't help a wry smile from crossing my face as I think back on punching Phiri. Come to think of it, slamming my fist into her face repeatedly probably wasn't good for my hand, and I notice my right one hurting now that I think about it. I flex it and I sharp pain shoots through my knuckles and wrist. I grimace when I notice the bruises that are already starting to form.

"Damn." John murmurs next to me. "That must have been a hard hit." He observes, leaning in closer to get a better look so his shoulder presses against mine. I swallow at the close proximity and quickly clench my hand back into a fist, letting my wrist relax again so my knuckles drop out of view. He leans back a bit with nothing more to inspect, but it feels like he's closer then he was before. I can't decide if I like it or not. I find myself favouring the former option.

"Whatever, it was worth it." I reply, hiding my confusion at my own feelings.

"I bet it was. I would've punched her if you didn't."

I bite back a laugh at the statement. "I wouldn't let you. It'd be a shame to get blood on your outfit."

He looks down at his shirt and shrugs. "I don't know, I think it could do with a burst of colour. It looks awfully plain to me."

"You're right, maybe it would take some attention away from the wrinkles."

"What?" His eyes widen and looks down at himself for the second time. He runs his hands over the shirt a couple of times and it takes the buzzer going off for him to look up and notice my smile, amused at his panic. He grunts and shakes his head disapprovingly as my smile grows, but he turns serious again in an instant. "Seriously though, is there wrinkles?"

I can't stop a short laugh from escaping at that. "Really? One minute your ready to get blood stains on your shirt but now you can't handle a wrinkle?" I tease.

He wrinkles his nose at me and I turn away smiling, settling my gaze on the ice where both teams have already made their way back out. Something seems off about our side of the ice though. It takes me a minute to realize it, but eventually I'm able to see the difference.

"They took Pierce out of net." Stanley says what I was thinking. I had almost forgotten he was here. A shame really that he wasn't able to disappear completely.

"Bad move." John notes. I nod, agreeing. It's not that the other goalie is bad, she's just average and doesn't have as much experience behind her. It's why she's the spare. "Why would they do that?" John asks. I remember Riley's split lip and know the answer.

Stanley speaks before I can. "Probably because she got hit a couple times. Nothing serious, but taking her out would help ease the tension with the other team."

I nod along with Stanley's reasoning. "Exactly." I agree without thinking. Stanley and I both take our eyes off the ice and look at each other around a confused John, both of us sporting shocked expressions ourselves. We quickly look back to the ice, ignoring what just happened as fast as we acknowledged it. John doesn't say anything either, probably knowing staying quiet would be better to keep the peace. Smart guy.

The period starts with the face-off as always. We actually win it but Mogadore soon gets the puck after that, bringing it down to the net to try a few shots that our new goalie thankfully manages to deflect. After that, both teams are continuously forced up and down the ice in a battle for control over the puck. This goes on for a while and I start to get tired of all the racing around.

Then it happens.

The buzzer goes off, signalling Mogadore's second goal of the night. This one had been a clean shot after a girl slipped through our defence and flicked it over the goalie pad. I clench my jaw and have to look away from their celebration. The only upside is that Phiri wasn't in the lineup.

"That sucks." John mutters, shaking his head.

"No kidding." I reply. To my right side, Marina and Joseph continue talking. I don't even think they know we're losing. At least they're having a good time.

I see Riley and the spare goalie switch places. "Too late for that." I scoff angrily.

"If you want to punch something I can go get Ra." John offers jokingly. My laugh comes out in an unsmiling huff, probably not the best way to convince anyone I'm not angry. "They can come back from this." He tries.

"There's three minutes left to the game." I counter.

"It's possible." He replies, slightly smiling at me. I get his point but I shake my head anyway. My goal was more about luck, which looks like something the team is lacking right now.

"Just because I got lucky once, doesn't mean the Mogs will let that happen again."

I look to John confused when he laughs. "You didn't get lucky, Maren." He says, leaving me more confused.

"What do you call it then if it wasn't luck?" I question, I'm not angry at him but my voice comes out cold anyway, probably still angry at the goal that was just scored. I wouldn't know, there's been so much to be mad about in the last hour.

He shrugs, a patient smile on his face, not seeming affected by my tone in the slightest. "I don't know, skill?"

I scoff. "It wasn't skill, it just happened because I was in the right spot when Mogadore was being sloppy."

"It wasn't just timing." His smile turns teasing but the light shade of pink on his cheeks says otherwise. "You're amazing, Maren. Face it."

I swallow my shock, instead replying with a short, amused huff. I don't know how else to respond really, it's not often that I'm confronted by this type of statement, let alone by a guy who I'm confused about to start with. The same guy that's leaving me uncharacteristically speechless at the moment. No words come to mind, and I'm not even confident that my actual response was appropriate.

John must sense my surprise because he suddenly turns sheepish. "I mean, not amazing- well yes, amazing but I was talking more about your skills as a hockey player." I arch an eyebrow at him, amused despite myself. He scratches the back of his neck. "Not that I think your not amazing because-"

"Dude." Stanley grabs John's shoulder with an expression of mock sympathy. "Stop talking, it's getting worse."

John nods mutely and Stanley gives him a reassuring nod. I roll my eyes. "Well we need to get going. Can't be late getting to the change room." Stanley continues. I narrow my eyes at the obvious jab at me and he sends a smirk my way. "As always Maren, it was a pleasure." He nods to me and I send him a glare he doesn't seem affected by. "Come on, Johnny." He grabs His friend by the shoulders and ushers him away.

John shakes out of his grip and turns back quickly. "Talk to you later."

"Yeah, good luck." I reply waving.

"Thanks sweetheart, but we don't need it!" Stanley cuts in, making me scowl. He winks at me before he walks away chuckling. There is something seriously wrong with that boy.

Johns eyes linger on me before he has to turn around to catch up with his friend, leaving me with a weird feeling. I turn away to find Ella watching them as they leave.

"Why aren't there any guys in my grade that look like that?" She sighs.

I look at her with wide eyes. "What?" I choke out. If anybody in sixth grade looked like that, I would be more concerned that steroids were a factor. She smiles innocently at my surprise.

"Especially the taller one." She continues as though I said nothing. 'The taller one' she's referring to must be Stanley. I feel like throwing up after imagining them together, and my shock turns to disapproval in an instant.

"No. If you like Stanley Worthington, consider me personally insulted." I huff. She laughs but I press on. "Plus he's too old for you."

"Age is just a number."

"I swear to god, Ella. I will lock you up before you ever go near him." I threaten. She laughs again but doesn't say anything else.

I look up at the clock. One minute left and Mogadore is still in the lead. If there was any chance of tying it up before, it's long gone now and I resign myself to another game on Friday. Joy. Sure enough, the next minute is uneventful and the Mogadore girls all celebrate when the buzzer goes off. I scowl at the cheers from the sea of black on the other side of the arena.

"Morons." I mutter to no one in particular.

"Name calling is not nice, Maren." Marina chides jokingly.

"Oh yeah? What would you call them then."

"Assholes." Joseph cuts in with a grin. I smile despite my attitude. Maybe this guy isn't too bad.

My mind returns to John for some reason, his words stuck with me. _You're amazing, Maren_ he had said. Just the words weren't such a big deal, it's the way he acted afterwards. Like they meant more. Now, I'm not an idiot, and if I'm right about what I saw it could mean at least a remote chance that John likes me _that_ way. Is it really a bad thing though? He's seems nice enough and there's no denying that he's one of the better looking representatives of his gender. Blond hair, blue eyes, strong build. He's pretty much the poster guy that most girls drool over. But one thought also runs through my mind along with everything else; if he could have anyone, why would he be interested in me?

I push all the thoughts from my mind quickly, annoyed at my self for even thinking about it. It just seems so stupid, like I'm back in middle school or something.

By the time Riley arrives, the zamboni is done cleaning the ice and the guys team are out for warmups. Her split lip has now stopped bleeding but I can also tell she got hit another time by the bruise that's beginning to form around her right eye. It'll be worse tomorrow.

"Holy shit, what happened to you face?" I joke when she gets closer. She laughs and I move over to let her between Ella and I, knowing she's too polite to ask the people on the other side to move.

"You should know, you were there." She retorts lightheartedly. "It's not as bad as it looks by the way. And what about you? Your hand took more of a beating then I did."

"My hand doesn't need an eyepatch." I tell her. Ella laughs but Riley just rolls her eyes.

"Hilarious, you should be a comedian." She deadpans, though she can't hold the serious look as usual, breaking into a grin shortly after.

"It _does_ look bad." Marina comments, the only concerned one out of all of us. I guess someone has to be.

Riley grins. "You should have seen the other guy." She holds up a fist and I burst out laughing, the idea of Riley actually punching someone is just too ridiculous. Marina rolls her eyes but Riley laughs with me, the idea apparently funny to her too. "Yeah that was lie, I didn't even hit her. I just wanted to say that at least once in my life." She admits.

"Look at you, following your dreams." I tease.

"I know right? I'm such an overachiever today." She says with mock enthusiasm, settling her arms comfortably on the rail.

"Where's your bag?" I ask, suddenly realizing the absence of the huge thing.

"I already put it back in the car." She explains, giving me a 'really?' Look. "Shows how observant you are. I said hi and everything."

I shrug. "I guess I was thinking about something else."

Her eyebrows furrow, the right one going down less then the left. The bruise must hurt more then she's letting on. "Must have been something pretty serious. I wasn't exactly quiet."

Before I can think of an adequate reply, Ella speaks up excitedly. "I'm glad you guys are both here now because a _lot_ of stuff is going on in school." She informs.

"If it's drama I hope you're not apart of any of it." Marina says wisely, diverting her attention away from Joseph for a second to look at her sister. Ella rolls her eyes.

"No, of course I'm not apart of it." She scoffs as though it wasn't possible.

Joseph pops his head around to look at Ella with a grin. "Well, I for one always like some good gossip." He says.

Marina laughs. "Well we can switch places then. I've already heard it."

Joseph immediately switches places with Marina, eagerly waiting for Ella to start. Ella grins at his enthusiasm and even I have to admit it's charming.

"Okay, so I'm going to start from the beginning so you don't get confused." She begins. My eyes widen. How confusing can grade six drama get? "So last year..."

Oh god. This will take a while.

- _page break_ -

It's the third period of the boy's game now and it turns out that elementary school drama can indeed get very confusing. Of course other topics have come up in the past hour and a half other then lower grade gossip, but I'm still finding it hard to keep up with Ella's chatter. It seems that dividing my attention between the hockey game and Ella proved to be rather difficult, and now I'm noticing major holes in the plot line of her story that I missed and oddly care about.

"... so then April saw Thomas eating lunch with Brooke and they broke up!" She explains with obvious agitation.

I haven't a sweet clue who April and Thomas are, but apparently their breakup was quite the scandal amongst the sixth grade population. Riley shakes her head with mock sadness.

"Tragic." Joseph supplies sadly. He's really winning some brownie points with Marina for getting along with Ella right now, though he seems genuinely intrigued.

"Yeah, I know." Ella agrees. "Then Makenzie started gossiping about how Brooke and Thomas were a couple, even though they're not. So now April doesn't want to get back with him."

"Makenzie, that witch." Joseph mutters, getting Ella to nod sympathetically.

It's obvious that Makenzie was a integral character to the drama, and I can't even recall any mention of her? This is hopeless. Defeated and oddly upset about my lacking information about the April and Thomas split, I return my focus back to the game, deeming it useless to try and retain any new information when I don't have the background.

It's a relief to turn back to something I can comprehend quickly. The score is currently 4-1 for us and it has brightened my spirits a little, knowing that Mogadore won't have the satisfaction of winning two games tonight. It's seems that the boys are having much more luck than us, which I'm happy about but also a little jealous, as childish as it may be. John got the first goal, Stanley got the second and the last goal, and somebody who I don't care enough about to remember got the third. There's only a couple minutes left at this point, their game running on a shorter time frame since it has has substantially less penalties, which means a longer playing time without interruption. Though I have seen Stanley having some trouble with the captain, another Sutekh. Seems like hockey runs in the genes of that family.

When the game gets down to the one minute mark, Marina suggests we leave early to avoid the crowds and we all agree. Her and Joseph say goodbye, which involves a half-hug and a couple words. He simply waves goodbye to the rest of us as we take our leave. It's nearly ten o'clock now and if we had to battle the crowds at the end we probably wouldn't even get everyone back to their respective houses by eleven. I almost get out of the door without incident.

"Not even staying until the end, Maren?"

My jaw clenches at the sound of Phiri's unmistakable growl and I stop in my tracks to face her. She's not alone, having dragged a group of around seven Mog girls with her. I nearly laugh when I see more bruises then regular skin on her face, but my hatred for her more than overpowers my amusement.

"Don't you have enough bruises for tonight, Ra?" I snap in the nearly empty main entrance. Anybody who mingles around is respectfully quiet.

She flashes me a smile, or she might be baring her teeth. I can't really tell. "I can't help but notice you don't have any. I'm aiming to fix that." She sneers.

"Well I hope you won't take it personally when you fail."

The buzzer sounds and people immediately flood the area, thankfully about to cut me off from Phiri before I do something I'll regret.

"You better watch your back, Elizabeth." She threatens.

"I assure you, I won't need to."

The crowd swallows her and her empty threats. I walk just ahead of the mass of people to my friends who were watching the exchange cautiously, ready to jump in if needed. We manage to get out through the door before the entirety of two schools, Phiri's threats almost ruining our getaway. Another thing to hold against her.

"That was..." Marina pauses, walking along at a quick pace beside me. "Well handled." She finishes. I do nothing more than nod, the Mog girl having soured my mood again for about the fifteenth time tonight.

There are two games on Friday. I don't know how either will go, and I don't know who will win. One thing is certain though.

It won't be pretty.

 **Hope you didn't mind the longer chapter again. And I think I'll be taking a break from the hockey for next chapter, maybe have some Navrina since y'all really seemed to like that last time :) Anyway, that's it from me, thankyou so much for reading and leave a review if you feel like it!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Hey guys, I want to start off how I start off every chapter; with an apology. It's been three weeks this time and I've been super busy. I'm sorry and I wish I had more time to write but y'all are awesome and gave me awesome reviews so thank you all so much!**

 **I had equal requests for Jix and Navrina this time so I did the smart thing (which I should have done before) and put them both in the one chapter. That's all from me so thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy!**

 **John**

I step out of the car, eyes squinting against the sun as I peer up at the building in front of me. It's nothing special, dirty red concrete-like coating behind the title of 'Foodland', cracked foundation, and rows of carts lined up unassumingly in the various corrals scattered around the store. The only thing mildly interesting about the place is that it's attached to a mall. Nobody would ever think this building would be the site of such pure confusion.

I close the car door and lock it, starting my reluctant journey toward the grocery store, which I know will only end in frustration. I've only ever gone to the grocery store by myself a handful of times and it's always ended in either bringing home the wrong items or leaving in quiet defeat when I can't find what I need. Dad usually does this, by now I'm sure he's memorized every aisle and it's contents better than the people that work there. I on the other hand wouldn't be able to find my way here if it wasn't for Dad reminding me that it was in the same mall as a sporting goods store I go to regularly. He doesn't usually do this to me, but today was a particularly busy day for him so here I am, apparently ready to conquer Foodland.

I reach the automatic doors and step through quickly when they smoothly slide over to permit my entrance. I yank a random cart out of one of the many rows lined up by the doors and slowly wheel it forward as I search my jeans pocket for the list Dad wrote for me. I pull it out and flatten it out on my leg before I hold it up to see the first item. Shampoo. Easy enough right?

I stop at an intersection, the daunting lines of shelves standing tall on either side of me. I study the aisle labels for a minute, before choosing a direction at random, shaking my head at my hopelessness. Now that the aisle labels are on my right, I crane my neck as I walk, struggling between looking ahead of me and trying to find anything related to shampoo. After about five minutes of searching I start to consider the possibility that foodland may only sell food. I mean, Dad assured me that I would be able to find everything on the list at this store but I can't help but think that my thoughts make make sense. _It's 'Foodland', not 'Everythingland'. Right? If there were other products besides food in here they'd name it something different. It's only logical that Foodland sells strictly food._

When I realize my eyebrows are tugged together as a result of my mental argument, I quickly let the thoughts go, praying that nobody saw. I look back to the aisles to continue my search for... wait, what was I searching for? Cursing to myself, I abruptly stop my empty cart and fish the note out of my pocket again.

"Ugh, shampoo." I mutter. I quickly scan down through the rest of the items and nod as I decide to start a hunt for another product on the list. This one is actual food because I don't want to spend an eternity searching for something that may or may not be in the store. Though something in the back of my mind tells me that Foodland does indeed sell shampoo. I'll probably just ask an employee to help me after.

Thankfully, I recall where the freezer section is located from my past handful of visits here, and it only takes me a couple of minutes to get there. So now all I have to do is find a bag of fries. How hard can that be? I push the cart along the series of glass doors and try not too grin too hard when I come across the product I'm looking for. I triumphantly pull open the door but freeze as I reach for the bag, noticing about twenty of the same looking bags, but all the brands are different. My eyes widen as I take in the sheer amount of the same product. I shouldn't be surprised though, I've run into this problem before. It doesn't make it any less confusing. Shaking my head, I grab a bag at random and throw it in the cart, where it lands with a resounding clang.

Deciding I'll save time by getting all of the freezer items at all the same time, I get the list out again and look for anything that could possibly be located in the freezer aisle. My plan is cut short as I hear a cart approaching behind me, and I start to push my own cart away, deciding I don't want an audience accompanying me while I struggle.

"Jesus, how many brands of fries are there?"

I freeze at the voice, partially because I was just having the same struggle, but also because there's no mistaking the person behind that complaint. I try to discreetly turn around but I'm pretty sure I look painfully obvious as my eyes settle on Maren, now in the process of tossing a bag of fries in her cart that's slightly more stocked than mine. She's by herself, and since she doesn't look like she's aware of my presence, I assume she was muttering the complaint to herself. Judging by how loud she was, I doubt she cares if anyone heard either.

I quickly turn around as she starts to wheel the cart forward again, pushing my own cart at a slightly faster pace as I decide what to do. Maybe I shouldn't talk to her, she already seems irritated as it is and I doubt talking to me would help her attitude, plus I've seen her a lot this week, she's probably sick of me. I don't even have anything to say to her anyway.

Consulting my list again as I make my hasty retreat, I push the cart with one hand as I scope out the next area I'll need to investigate.

"John?"

I stop in my tracks, shocked to hear her voice again. I wouldn't believe she was talking to me if she never said my name, but here she is. After recovering from my surprise, I stuff my shopping list back in my pocket and turn to face her with a smile I can't contain. All of the other times we've talked, it's been because I spoke to her first. This is the first time she's initiated any type of interaction between the two of us, and I'm more excited about it then I'd like admit.

She smiles a little too when I turn around, but her expression looks more relived then anything. "That would have been really awkward if it wasn't you." She says with a small laugh.

"I don't know, you could have made a friend." I reply, grinning as I turn my cart around.

"Yeah, making friends is my top priority when I come to the grocery store." She rolls her eyes and goes back to looking in the doors of the freezers.

Some may take this reaction as the end of the conversation, but knowing Maren, even her bothering to initiate a conversation is a big compliment considering her personality. I decide to leave my cart behind and stroll up to her, hoping it's the right move. She scowls at the freezers while I approach and I can only hope the expression is directed towards the endless products.

I approach her slowly, taking in her appearance. It's the same as always; loose ponytail, faded blue jeans, and her regular pair of black sneakers. There's nothing really different about her other than the fact that she's wearing a zipper-up sweater instead of her regular T-shirt or hoodie. Somehow she makes the combination look like designer clothes.

She opens one of the many clear doors in the area, cold air spilling out only for a second until she grabs a bag of peas and chucks it into the cart roughly. She glances at me and I quickly turn my gaze away, the contents of her cart suddenly intriguing.

"Something interesting in there, John?" She asks, amusement in her tone.

I nod enthusiastically as I search desperately for something that could be worthy of holding my attention. A pack of toothbrushes catches my eye.

"So Foodland doesn't just sell food." I murmur. I hold them up to Maren, who looks mildly concerned about my amazed reaction to a toothbrush. "Where did you find these? And do you know where the shampoo is?" I look to her hopefully and she cautiously takes the package from my hand, dropping it back in the cart, a smile slowly building on her face at my desperation.

"Uh, yeah." She answers, tilting her head to the side a little as I grin. She eyes me cautiously. "Are you going to be okay?"

"Oh yeah, I'm good. I just..." I loose my train of thought as her eyes widen in exaggerated concern and I can't help but stare at the somehow vibrant grey in her gaze. I laugh sheepishly and tear my eyes away from hers. " _Really_ need shampoo." I finish my sentence stupidly, rubbing the back of my neck as I feel a bit of heat rush to my face.

"If it means that much to you, then I _guess_ I could help you out." She replies, a hint of an amused smile on her face. At least I helped improve her mood, though it was at my expense.

"Thanks, I seriously have no idea what I'm doing." I admit with a chuckle, walking with her as she moves forward, her eyes scanning the freezers again. "I could help you look for stuff though, if you want." I offer.

"This coming from the guy who literally just told me he has no idea what he's doing." She aches an eyebrow at me with a slight smirk, perfectly achieving the 'really?' expression.

"Well when you put it like that it sounds stupid." I mutter. A grin breaks her sarcastic expression, but she only lets me see it for a second before she turns back to looking for whatever she needs, shaking her head. I chuckle at her which she ignores.

She grabs something out of the freezer before making her way out of the section. "Come on, lets go find your precious shampoo." She says flatly.

"But that's the direction of the checkouts."

The corner of her mouth quirks up into a smile and she rolls her eyes. "We need to get you a new cart, someone took your other one."

My eyes widen and turn around, mildly horrified when I see the absence of the cart where I left it. I sigh dejectedly and follow a few steps behind Maren as she leads me back to the place where my suffering began. "It took me so long to find those fries." I grumble, looking back again, now with an angry stare instead of sadness.

"Whatever, it was squeaky anyway. You can get a better one." Maren shrugs.

"You can't replace memories." I sigh dramatically. She rolls her eyes with a short laugh and I can't help but grin.

It doesn't take long for us to find another cart, and soon we're back to wandering the aisles once again, now migrated to what seems to be the soda and junk food section of the store. Once we get to the middle of the aisle, Maren stops to take out a list much like mine, scanning it quickly before looking around at the plethora of items around us.

"I thought we were getting shampoo." I say.

"Not everything is about you, John." She replies jokingly. "I still have stuff I need to get." She looks back down at the list in her hand while I chuckle.

"Alright, What do you need?" I ask, wheeling my cart ahead to look over her shoulder at the wrinkled note filled with tidy printing. She scrunches the note up before I can get a good look at it, apparently not wanting assistance. What is it with this girl and refusing help?

"Is there anything on your list that's in this aisle?" She asks, already walking to the front of her cart to find something. I almost forgot that I needed anything.

I take out my own slip of paper and gather the respected items with some struggle, but manage to complete the feat semi fast. When I walk back to my cart, Maren is standing a few feet away, reaching for something on the top shelf. She's not short, her height about the average for a woman, maybe a bit better. Still, she struggles to reach a bag of chips even standing on her toes. It seems that the shelves here were not built for anyone under six feet tall. Even knowing she doesn't want help, my feet move me forward until I'm standing beside her. Even being quite a few inches taller than Maren, I still have to stand on my toes to grab what she wanted. I hand it to her with what I hope she takes as an apologetic smile.

"Thank you." She says not unkindly as she takes the bag out of my hand. "I was about to resort to jumping." Her voice enters into a mutter at the last part and she walks back to the cart, wasting no time before pushing it forward.

"What would you do without me?" I can't help but tease her as my longer steps quickly catch up to her pace.

"Without you, I'd probably have my shopping done now." She retorts. "But instead, I have to bring you all the way over the the other side of the store." We've now entered another aisle, this one mainly consisting of canned food. Again, she stops to consult her list, causing me to stop a few feet behind her.

"So why don't you just point me in right direction and you'll be on your way?" I counter. Maren sighs, then after a second she turns around so she can face me, one hand still resting in the handle of her cart.

"Because you're one of the few people I actually like."

By the bored look on her face, nobody would think anything of her words. But I can tell by the way she paused before turning around that she debated saying anything at all. And also, holy shit. The girl who scowls more then she smiles just told me she liked me? Even knowing she only meant it in a friendly way, I'm very aware of how many people she puts the title of 'friend' on, and it's not many. I grin stupidly, strangely elated to be friend-zoned by Maren Elizabeth. I guess it's a step up from being acquaintance-zone.

"I guess I should feel honoured." I joke before I can look too stupid. With the grin splitting my face, I fear it may be too late.

"Considering the amount of people I hate, yes you should." She replies, thankfully taking another glance down at her list, giving me time to tame my excitement. God, I really need to get my emotions in check. This is getting ridiculous. "Is there anything you need here?" She asks.

"No." I don't even need to look at my list. "Dad doesn't like canned stuff."

"Okay, well make yourself useful then." She says. I'm confused for a second until she continues. "I need corn, mushrooms, and tomato soup."

I can't keep my eyebrows from raising in surprise. Seriously, what is going on today? Literally two minutes ago she made it painfully clear that she didn't want any help, so what changed between then and now? Does she need a certain level of trust established before she considers assistance? If so, I couldn't have possibly gained that much trust in the amount of time it took to travel the distance of one aisle. This day just keeps getting more and more confusing. First, Maren talked to me without having to be prompted. Then she said she likes me, and now is requesting help after declining it a minute ago. Speaking of which, I should probably get started on that help thing.

I shake my head to clear it before stepping into the middle of the aisle to begin scanning the vast assortment of cans. I stay there for a second but quickly deem it impossible to read all the labels while standing in the one spot, and I start a jog down the centre of the aisle. _Corn... mushrooms... soup... corn... mushrooms...soup_. My head is on a constant swivel as I try to locate the items, repeating them all in my head so I don't forget. _Corn... mushrooms... soup... mushrooms!_

With a triumphant grin, I pluck the can from the shelve, immediately starting my search for the rest of the list. It doesn't take long to find them and I quickly return to the cart where Maren throws the last item in. She takes a look at my findings.

"Good job." She comments with a nod. I grin and drop them in, pride running through me from actually doing something right in the grocery store. "Now we can go get shampoo." She says, doing a smooth U-turn with her cart.

"I was starting to think that you forgot." I say jokingly.

"About something this important?" She shakes her head. "Never."

I chuckle. "You know, Maren." I start, trailing closely behind her. She turns around to give me an expectant look. I grin. "I like you too."

"That's comforting." Is her flat reply.

I laugh and she turns right at the end of the aisle, proceeding into long path, aisle entries on either side. This part of the store is wider, wide enough to fit two carts side by side. Deciding it would be easier to talk while walking next to her, I jog my cart up to the left side of hers and lift myself up on the handle so my feet are off the ground as I drift up next to her.

Maren eyes me as I approach, arching an amused eyebrow at my stunt, but not really seeming impressed. I set my feet back on the ground as I begin to slow so I can walk along with her.

"So," I start with a grin, determined to keep our conversation going. She raises her eyebrows expectantly at me. "Who forced you to come here?"

"Nobody _forced_ me." She replies. I almost laugh. _Of course not_. "But Mom did suggest that I come."

"Yeah, my Dad is behind my uh... presence here." I admit. "I don't do this often."

"Really? And here you seemed like such a natural." She says flatly. I laugh and she lets a smile out. "You know, you should really get a better understanding of this place, I'm not always going to be here to help you."

"You make it sound like a personal sacrifice." I chuckle.

"Just trying to help." She shrugs.

"How selfless of you." I mimic the flat, sarcastic tone she uses so often and just manage to keep my expression neutral. Maren arches an eyebrow at me, another common expression for her.

"Was that supposed to represent me?" She asks.

"Maybe?" I shrug, a smile quickly making its way onto my face again. "Was it good?"

"No." She replies quickly. "Glaring doesn't suit you."

"And it suits you?" I challenge. I almost regret the words when her gaze jumps to me, her eyes suddenly more steely than vibrant. With the feeling between us quickly migrated from teasing to something more serious, I quickly become aware that I should probably be more careful about what I say to her. Her stare tells me to drop the subject. Well shit, I've already annoyed her, I might as well dig a deeper hole for myself. "I think other expressions suit you better." I say. As many times as I've gotten distracted by her eyes, you would never think I'd want to look away from her gaze now.

"You don't know what suits me." She says finally. "You barely know me."

"Tell me something then." I retort. Maren's eyes snap to me again, but this time it's her who looks away first. She shakes her head once and I start to think she won't answer. Then she glances back at me, an slight puzzled expression on her face, suddenly looking less intimidating.

"You confuse me, John." I almost laugh but manage to bite it back. I confuse _her_? Well damn, if I'm confusing to her, she must be near impossible to understand. If anything, I'm embarrassingly transparent. "Turn left."

Because of the sudden topic change, it takes me a minute to comprehend what she said. Thankfully I comply before it's too late, and we turn into an aisle where we have to switch to a single file line, Maren up front. I don't pay attention to the contents of the shelves.

"I confuse you." I repeat. I can picture her rolling her eyes and quickly move on. "Can I ask why?"

She sighs, probably already regretting saying anything now that she's been asked to explain herself. She tilts her head to the side slightly, no doubt thinking about how to phrase something she doesn't feel like admitting.

"I'm trying to figure out why you want to be friends with me. I mean-" she shakes her head, frustrated at the lack of preparation she had for this conversation I assume. "I'm not particularly nice to you, and you're popular as it is. So out of everyone you could have chosen to be nice to, you chose me. I just don't get why." She says it like she can't possibly have any likeable qualities.

Maren stops now, in he middle of the aisle and turns around to look at me, her steely eyes filled with question, arms folded loosely over her chest as she leans her shoulder on the shelves. I bite the inside of my lip as I try to conjure up a reason for my liking her that doesn't involve the words, beautiful, funny, or badass. Even though she's all of those things, I would never say that to her, not now anyway since I know she's not digging for compliments. It's almost a joke, the uncertain set of her jaw, the genuine curiosity in her eyes. I doubt this girl even knows that half the people at our school would throw their friendship at her if given the chance. She doesn't know how amazing she is, despite her confident attitude. It's almost a shame. I look down at the floor, hoping my mind will be clearer than it is with her features taking up my vision. Why would I want to be friends with her?

Smiling slightly, and hopefully assuringly, I turn my gaze back to her, daring a look in her eye. I shrug. "Why not?"

Maren's eyebrows shoot up. For once she looks surprised. She only lets me see it for less then a second before she looks to the floor, then the shelves, shaking her head. Never in my life did I think I would see her speechless. I don't know why, it was only two words. Did she expect some ulterior motive or for me to request something in return? I doubt I'll ever know.

"Uh...okay." She gestures across from her, at the many products I haven't had a reason to look at yet. "Well, we're here. Shampoo." She mutters.

"Right, thanks." I tell her, quickly finding the bottle I see so often in the shower. I walk over and grab it off the shelf. Instead of heading immediately back to the cart, I stay facing the shelves for a second, tapping the bottle once in my hand while I think about what she said. "You know, Maren. You're not always _not_ nice." I turn away from the shelves only to find her eyeing my doubtfully. "I mean, you tied my shoe for me that time at the gym." I point out. She chuckles shortly, slowly regaining her usual aura of confidence, though she's not quite back to herself yet.

"Yeah, my one act of selflessness. Thanks for reminding me."

I shrug, still holding onto the shampoo. "I think you need to be reminded. Sometimes you forget that you have a habit of doing good things too."

Maren presses her lips together and looks down, I can't place the emotion on her face. I don't try to understand her. I have a feeling her personality won't get any less confusing for me. She clears her throat, placing one hand on her cart.

"Is there anything else you need help with or are you good from here?" She asks. Her fingers drum on the cart handle.

"Oh, no. I'm good now." I reply, tapping the bottle in my hand once again. I nod. "I should be able to find everything else, thanks." I don't really want Maren to go, but I know that I have no say in her decision so I don't try. Plus, she will most likely take the opportunity to leave. A situation where she's not in control is not a situation she wants to be in. At least I've learned that much about her.

My suspicions are confirmed when she nods. "Alright, well I'll see you tomorrow I guess."

"I guess you will." She gives me a tight smile before starting to make her way out of the aisle, not going too fast or too slow. I guess she's back to normal now. She gets to the end of the aisle and is about to turn.

"Two." I call. She stops and turns around, confused.

"What?" She asks.

"Two acts of selflessness actually." I explain. "You counted one for tying my shoes but you didn't count one for right now, for helping me find this." I hold up the bottle that I haven't managed to put down yet. "Thanks."

She shakes her head, looking conflicted. About what I don't know. "Don't mention it." She replies, then she's gone.

I take out my grocery list again and I'm not surprised when I draw a blank when I try to think of the location of the other items. Despite this being my most confusing visit to the grocery store yet, I can't help but grin. Because despite how quickly she recovered, I never thought I'd see the day when Maren Elizabeth was rendered speechless, much less by me.

 **Marina**

"Okay. Focus." I command myself, my Biology book and worksheets the only things I have to keep me company in the silence of my room.

I am currently sitting on my bed, my biology book and a huge collection of worksheets and notes surrounding me messily. One worksheet, that's all I need. I got it today so it should be relatively simple the locate, or so one would think. The truth of the matter is that I have now been looking for that same worksheet for a frustrating twenty minutes, and by now everything is starting to look the same.

My lips pressed together and eyebrows furrowed in concentration, I very slowly scan over the pile once more, carefully eyeing each piece of paper with malice. Despite my intimidating glare, the worksheet still fails to make an appearance and I lean my back into my headboard with a mournful sigh of defeat. I've checked my school bag, around my room, and even the porch for this particular thing, so it's safe to say I've now run out of options. It's probably laying somewhere on the floor in the school hallway right now, and with my luck, there probably won't be any extras when I go to class tomorrow. No, I need to find it. My teacher, Mr. Byrne, hardly ever gives homework, and it will not look good if I fail to turn anything in the one time he assigns something, especially something as simple as that worksheet was.

Knowing it will be useless, I scan the papers again. And again. And again. My frustration builds to anger as I fail to find the sheet over and over again, and I look to the door with a clenched jaw, silently praying for a distraction. I know there won't be one. Mom is at work and Ella is gone to a friend's house so there's no rush for supper and no abandoning-homework worthy activities taking place, much to my demise. I don't pray often, but I look to the sky now, as foolish as my reasoning may be. Please give me something else to do that's more important than homework.

I'm startled by a loud buzzing and I snap my gaze toward my nightstand, where my phone is vibrating. Someone is calling me.

"Damn, that was fast." I say to no one before grabbing my still vibrating phone off the table to see Joseph's name of the screen. My eyebrows shoot up involuntarily, but I quickly cover my surprise click the button, holding the phone the my ear.

"Hello?"

"Marina of the sea!" He exclaims. Before I can even think about it, a smile is on my face full force. "How are you doing today?"

"Good I guess." I reply, not really knowing what else to say. I sit up straighter on the bed. "You?"

"Never better." Is his cheerful reply. He pauses for second. "Are you doing anything important at the moment?"

"Uh..." I take a moment to glance at the books around me, my elusive worksheet still very much not in sight. "No, nothing important. Why?"

"Perfect. You see, Marina, I was wondering if you would be interested in going out with me tonight? Like, as a date." He asks casually, like my heart didn't just stop beating for a moment. "I was thinking we could go to dinner and hang out after, like go for a walk or something. If you want to of course."

My grin widens and I feel like laughing, already stupidly giddy. God, I need to calm down. I manage to reign in my emotions and find myself eternally grateful that he can't see my face, or my excitement. Though I fear her may be able to actually feel the latter through the phone.

"Yeah, that sounds great." I say, hoping I sound calm, but the grin on my face says otherwise.

"Perfect!" He says again, his grin audible. I suspect mine is too. "So, can I pick you up at six?" He asks.

"Uh..." I lean forward so I can take a look at the digital clock on my nightstand. It's 5:30 now and I'm wearing pyjamas, no makeup, and my hair is sprawled on my head in a floppy bun with tons of loose strands hanging out, not to mention it's frizzy. "That's in thirty minutes." I say slowly, hopefully getting the message across that I need more time.

"Oh, is that not enough time? Because I already made a restaurant reservation for six-thirty..." My mouth drops open and I snap my eyes to the clock again, silently hoping time would magically reverse to give me more time to get ready. Although, even through my panic I still can't help but be thrilled at the fact he already made plans. That's not to say I'm not freaking out though.

"Oh?" I choke out, already starting to shove my papers into a pile, holding the phone to my ear with my shoulder.

"If that's not enough time I can't try to reschedule it-"

"No no, it's fine. It's good, I've got this, it's okay." I interrupt him hurriedly. If this was important enough for him to make plans without knowing if I would come, I can rush to get ready for it.

"It doesn't _sound_ okay, are you sure? Because-"

"Yes I'm sure. Completely." I would feel bad for interrupting him again if he didn't chuckle, probably picturing my struggle. He can most likely hear the loud crinkling of all my sheets too as I finally manage to get them into something that resembles a stack.

"Six is good." I pick up the messy pile in one hand and attempt to open my school bag with the other. "I just-" my sentence dissolves into a curse as my phone very rudely falls from my shoulder, landing with a thud of the floor. I drop everything and lunge off the bed to grab it, thankfully the screen is still intact. I hear Joseph laughing when I bring the phone back to my ear and I roll my eyes.

"I'm sensing you're in a rush." He chuckles. That's an understatement. "I'll go and let you get ready."

I nod even though he can't see me. "Yeah, that would be good."

He's still laughing when he answers. "Alright, see you in a bit."

"Yup, see y-" I suddenly remember that he made a reservation, and a reservation probably means this place is a rank up from casual. "Wait, where are we going to eat?"

"It's a surprise."

"Let me rephrase that, should I dress casual or fancy?"

"You'll look great in whatever you wear."

I sigh, but a blush rises on my cheeks anyway. "Joseph, that's not what I mean-"

"Well, I can't tell you anything, it'll ruin the surprise." He says teasingly. I sigh and he laughs at my exasperation. "See you at six, Sea Queen." He hangs up the phone, leaving me in my panic and indecisiveness.

I look at the clock again. Twenty-seven minutes to get ready. I can do this.

Exactly twenty-six minutes after that I burst from the bathroom, spraying some anti-frizz product on my hair, which I decided to keep down. I spray it around my head quickly as I make my way to a window that looks down to the front of the house, looking out for Joseph's presence. Thankfully a glance to the driveway tells me that only one vehicle is in the driveway and it's mine. I rush back to the bathroom and slam the bottle of spray back onto the counter before taking a careful look at myself in he mirror. I study my simple, but hopefully still classy looking, faded red, long-sleeved sweater/shirt thing paired with my least washed-out pair of jeans. I went for the in-between approach, not too fancy but also not giving off the impression of no effort. I hope it suits where he's taking me. I mean, I think jeans are kind of formal right? Maybe they're not, I don't know. Maybe I'm overthinking it. I suspect the last one is accurate.

The doorbell ring sounds through the house and my heart pretty much jumps from chest. I checked for Joseph literally ten seconds ago. I check the time to find it's exactly six o'clock. Damn him for being on time. I do another rushed look in the mirror, quickly scanning my hair hanging over my shoulders, which was extremely hard to tame but actually looks somewhere near presentable now. I'm not wearing much makeup since I didn't have too much time, the 'natural' look I think is it's formal name. Whatever, I call it 'rushed'.

The doorbell rings again, a respectful few seconds after the first one. "One minute!" I yell while pretty much sprinting to my room to grab my phone and a light jacket in case it gets cold. I pull it on while making my way down the stairs, grabbing a pair of flats from the rack once I get to the porch. Are flats formal? I guess it's too late to think about that now.

I take a breath before opening the door, revealing a smartly dressed Joseph. He actually looks as formal as I've ever seen him, wearing a shirt that actually buttons up and everything, though it's paired with dark jeans and what I assume to be his best looking pair of sneakers. His hair is still a wild mess of curls, but somehow it matches his half formal appearance perfectly. I guess I got the outfit category right at least. It seems that he was looking around, but when I open the door his gaze quickly shifts to me, that disarming grin he often wears slipping easily onto his face. His eyes shift over me and I feel heat rush to my cheeks when his mouth drifts open slightly before he bites his lip. Nervous excitement runs through me, making my stomach do flips

"Hey." He says, it sounds like a whisper.

"Hi." My voice comes out accompanied with a thread of nervous laughter.

He clears his throat and straightens up, composing himself quickly. I only now notice that one hand is behind his back. "Marina of the sea." He announces. Emerald eyes lit up, he tilts his head towards me. "These are for you." He pulls a small bouquet of colourful flowers from behind his back and presents them with flourish. My eyebrows shoot up in surprise but I quickly take them from him with a grin.

"Thank you." I say appreciatively. He grins, looking relieved that I didn't decline his gift, as though I would. I hold them in my hands, unsure of what to do with them. I've never encountered this before. "Oh, water. I'm gonna go put-" I stumble on my words and point towards the kitchen as I struggle. Joseph nods and gestures for me to go.

"Take your time. I'll be here."

I nod and quickly walk to the kitchen, searching desperately for a vase or something. Do we seriously have no vases in this house? I settle for a tall glass and fill it halfway with water before carefully placing the flowers in it. They almost fall out but manage to hang on. It's as good as it'll get I guess.

I return to the porch to find Joseph still there, just like he promised. I walk out and lock the door. He grins at me, his eyes warm as he arches an eyebrow. "Shall we?"

I laugh. "We shall."

We start walking together but he quickly breaks from our pair, jogging in the direction of his car which isn't too far away. It isn't his regular vehicle though. I don't know much about cars, but I know enough to figure out that this particular model is a Ford Mustang, a blue one. And damn, it's a nice car. I cover my awe with a smile as I pay attention to Joseph, now opening the passenger side door for me. It swings open to reveal a sleek, dark interior. I struggle to refrain from gaping at it.

I slip in after thanking Joseph and sink into the comfortable leather seat, Joseph quick to close the door after my feet are safely inside. He jogs around the front of the vehicle and hops into the front seat, turning the keys and starting it up with a smooth purr from the engine.

"Nice car." I comment.

"Thanks." He nods and pats the steering wheel appreciatively. "It's Dad's pride and joy. He only lets me drive it for _really_ important stuff." He winks at me and I laugh as he carefully guides the vehicle out of the driveway and onto the main road.

"Alright, are you going to tell me where we're going now?" I question.

"I already told you, it's a surprise." He answers, looking ahead as we continue down the road. "Patience." He chides. I roll my eyes and he laughs at my eagerness, watching me out of the corner of his eye before shaking his head.

I raise my eyebrows at him. "What?"

"You look stunning, Your Majesty."

Of course, a blush rises to my cheeks immediately and I can't help a nervous bubble of laughter that rises in my throat. "You don't look too bad yourself."

The drive doesn't take long, and pretty soon we're pulling into the parking lot of a recently built restaurant. I've never been in there, but I've heard it's very popular among the younger generations, and it's popularity is exemplified by the mass of cars in the parking lot. There's barely any parking spots, but Joseph manages to find one where someone is just pulling out, pulling the car in before anyone else can take it. We both look at the time when the car stops. 6:15.

"I thought there was going to be more traffic." Joseph says sheepishly.

I shrug. "They might have the table ready early, we can go in and check." I suggest. His face lights up like it's the best idea in the world and I chuckle at him.

"Yes, that's a great idea." He quickly unbuckles his seatbelt and I do the same, reaching for the door. "Wait!" His voice stops me and my hand hovers over the door handle. I send a questioning look at him while he hurriedly opens his door. "Wait there." He holds up a hand in a quick 'stop' gesture before closing the door and jogging around to my side of the car, where he promptly opens my door with his usual grin.

"Can't have you opening your own door, that would be rude." He explains himself.

"Oh yeah, what a tragedy." I say sarcastically as I step out of the car, then I turn to Joseph, still standing there and looking happy to hold the door. "Thank you." I take a step away so he can close the door.

"I aim to please." He replies cheerily, coming up to walk along next me as we make our way across the parking lot. I look up at Joseph when we're about halfway to the door, where he's still walking happily.

"Are you going to lock the doors?" I remind him.

His eyes widen. "Right yeah, that would probably be a good idea." He chuckles, reaching into his pocket before pulling out a set of keys. A honk from the car tells me he has the door locked and he looks sheepish as he returns the keys to his pocket and resumes our journey.

Of course, he darts in front of me when we get to the doors, opening one and letting me go past. Though he's stumped by a second set of doors when we get inside, still not recovered from holding the first. I consider waiting for him but that seems needy, so I settle for pulling it and letting him grab it from behind me to open it the whole way.

The music was muffled when we entered the first set of doors, but it's loud now, not club loud but just too loud to talk comfortably. Oh well at least it's good music. Joseph starts to walk purposefully toward the front counter but has to stop multiple times to ask people to move so we can get through. It seems they're all waiting around the entrance next to a couple of benches that are also overflowing with people, all waiting to get a table no doubt. Joseph politely asks people to move aside and lightly puts a hand on my back to help usher me through the crowd. I don't really need the help but don't say anything.

When we finally break through the crowd, Joseph approaches the counter with the hostess behind it. He takes his hand from my back as he talks to her, apparently deeming me capable of standing upright without his help. Joseph tells the woman his last name and she begins searching through a list she has in front of her. Her eyebrows tug together after a moment and she looks up.

"I'm sorry sir, I can't see your reservation here." She tells us with probably fake regretfulness.

"Well we're here early, could that have something to do with it?" Joseph asks, already looking more than mildly concerned about the start of this exchange.

The woman shakes her head. "No, all of the reservations are here, I can't seem to find one under 'Reyes' though." She shakes her head, and I watch Joseph as his concern turns to panic.

"I made the reservation at five, it has to be there." He says.

"I'm sorry sir." She says again. "We're really busy tonight, there could have been a mix-up, it happens sometimes." She apologizes, it sounds rehearsed, like she's said it a thousand times before. Maybe she has.

"But-"

"There's nothing I can do sir, but you're welcome to wait for the next available table."

Joseph's expression is like a deer in headlights as he looks down at me and I smile in what I hope to be a reassuring manner. He returns the expression tightly and runs a hand through his hair as he turns to look at the mass of people crowded around the entrance and piled on the benches.

"Okay, uh... how long is the wait time?" He asks, hopefulness still present in his voice.

"Right now it's forty-five minutes." She smiles politely and Joseph's mouth drops open. He glances cautiously at me before turning back to the hostess, who doesn't look particularly concerned by our predicament.

"Forty- five minutes?" He repeats.

"That's right, should I put your name down?" She looks expectantly at him and he looks down at me, an apology in his eyes. I don't know why, it's not his fault. He looks like he doesn't know what to do, he planned this out so great and now it's falling apart and he's not sure how he should proceed.

I turn to the hostess. "No, we're fine." I cut in with a smile. The hostess nods, unfazed, while Joseph snaps his head to me, confusion written on his face. "Come on, we can go somewhere else. It too loud in here anyway." I shrug, indifferent about the situation and also trying to ease his nerves a bit.

"Wait, but I wanted to take you to a nice restaurant. We can figure something out here." He looks back to the counter and seems like he's about to say something, but I put a hand on his arm to stop him. He turns his wide eyes to me and I can't help but chuckle at the expression.

"Joseph, there are other restaurants where we won't have to wait forty-five minutes for a table." I tell him. He presses his lips together. Feeling bold, I let my hand slip down to his as I start to walk backwards. His eyebrows shoot up and a smile crosses his face. "Lets go." I urge gently.

He grins and nods, suddenly more compliant as he starts to follow me out. Once I'm sure he's coming behind me I turn around and start to battle the crowd, letting go of his hand in the process since it would be awkward trying to get out like that. He can't get the door for me this time since he's behind me, but reaches out from behind me when I open it enough for him to grab it and pulls it the rest of the way.

"So, Sea Girl, any idea of where we should go now?" He asks when we stand outside the door.

"You didn't make a plan B?" I tease.

"Didn't think I'd need one." He laughs. "What kind of restaurant just loses a reservation?"

"Not one I'd want to got to."

"Well they didn't seem to want us either so I guess you're in luck." She says with a sideways grin that I can't help but laugh at.

"You know, we probably shouldn't be insulting a place while standing right by the door." I point out. Joseph's eyes widen with mock fear and he checks behind him jokingly.

"Yeah you're right, we might get arrested." He says, actually looking serious. I roll my eyes and he grins. "Come on." My heart leaps as he laces his fingers with mine and starts to walk in the direction of the car. I quickly follow to keep him from pulling me and his grin seems to widen while he glances a me out of the corner of his eye. "I think I just found a plan B."

- _page break_ -

A relaxing breeze washes over me as I step out of the car and onto the pavement, just a few feet away from a beach where water laps at the edge of the grey rocks, round and smooth from years of erosion. I can see a few seagulls fly around in what's left of the dull light from the quickly retreating sun on the horizon.

"The beach." I laugh, watching Joseph as he closes the car door behind me. He turns to look out at the horizon with me and gestures widely around us.

"I figured it was symbolic." He explains. "You know, you're a sea queen and this is-"

"The sea, yeah I get it." I finish for him. He grins at me.

"You're a perceptive one, Your Majesty." He gives me a little bow, making me roll my eyes, amused at his behaviour. I turn away from the beach and find a small, white building that I assume to be the restaurant. A sign by the bottom of the stairs leading up to it says 'By Da Beach'. "Ah I see you've noticed the main attraction." Joseph has now turned around, standing next to me.

"I have, think there'll be a wait?" I ask. He shakes his head and starts to walk towards it with a relaxed pace. I follow.

"Oh, not a chance. It's a little family owned place, but the food is great. Of course they sell a lot of seafood but..." he pauses and glances at me with an arched eyebrow of question. "How do you feel about pizza?"

"I feel very strongly about pizza." I answer, trying not to sound too excited about the idea. A grin lights up his face and I suspect my efforts were futile.

"Well it's your lucky day then." Joseph jogs up the steps and pulls the door open, holding a hand out welcomingly as he waits for me. I climb the steps at a fast pace, not wanting him to wait on me for too long. "Welcome to 'By Da Beach'." He announces as I pass.

As soon as I step in, the scent of fried food fills my senses and I feel hungry at once. The door jingles behind us as Joseph lets it close after stepping inside himself. He leads me through the small entrance and past a sign that tells us to seat ourselves, where he opts for a small booth next to a window, giving us a perfect view of the ocean and the beach. There's only about twenty people here, the sound of quiet conversation cutting in over the radio, playing some station that I don't recognize.

Pretty soon, a waitress comes over to hand us menus. Taking Joseph's advice, I order the pizza and he does too, though his is vegetarian and mine is pepperoni. Although as I look around, I notice a lot of people eating fish and chips and I start to wonder if I should have had that instead. It does look good.

"So, Marina of the sea, I don't know a lot about you." Joseph speaks up and I tear my eyes away from a plate of food someone else is enjoying. I really get distracted by food too easily. Joseph smiles warmly at me. "Tell me about yourself."

The question stumps me. I'm not really exciting or interesting in the least, I can't really search for anything to say so I just shrug. "What do you want to know?" I ask.

"Hmm, I don't know. We might as well start off with the deep stuff." He replies and I raise my eyebrows at him as he goes serious. "What's your favourite colour?"

I laugh and his stoic expression breaks into a grin. "Blue."

He nods understandingly. "Figures, being a sea queen and all." I roll my eyes which I have been doing a lot of today, he doesn't seem bothered. "Mine is green. Next question; hobbies?" I open my mouth but nothing comes out yet, as I'm having trouble thinking of anything to tell him that he doesn't already know. I'm relieved when he cuts back in after a second, because I was drawing major blank. "Well, I already know about art and skating, so what else?"

I shake my head, admitting to defeat against trying to find anything remotely interesting about myself. "I can't think of anything else really. I guess I'm just boring." I reply with a laugh.

"Impossible." He replies.

"How do you know?" I ask, amused.

He shoots me a teasing grin and I try not to get lost in his bright eyes. "Because I don't date boring girls." He replies confidently, making my cheeks heat up, of course.

"I guess that settles it then." I say, struggling to refrain from laughing. "Alright, next question." I urge him.

He tilts his head a little, narrowing his eyes jokingly. "How do you know I have another question?"

"It would make sense considering you've asked me two already."

"Touché." He gives me a nod and I smile in triumph. "Are you sure you're ready? They're about to get difficult."

"I'm ready." I answer.

"Alright, here it is. Favourite subject." I pause to think about it but he shakes his head. "Don't think about it, just say the first thing that comes to mind. Go!" He points a finger at me and I'm hit with a sense of urgency as my mind fails to recall any of my classes.

"Uh... biology." I blurt out. As soon as I say it I think about art class and I silently regret my quick decision. I guess it isn't completely wrong though. If I were to pick something other than art, biology would probably be my first choice.

Joseph nods like it's the most interesting thing in the world, making me doubt my boringness for a second. "So, are you going to go into med school then?"

I almost laugh at his question. Between taking care of Ella and dealing with Mom, I've barely put any thought into what I'll do when I finally get out of high school. At least it's good to have some ideas. "I actually have no clue what I'm going to do." I admit, shaking my head. "You?"

"No, I'm in the same boat. I know I want to do something useful though." Joseph replies. His smile is mostly gone but of course, some remains tugging at the corner of his lip as always. "I know everything is useful and all that but, I want to help people. Do something that makes a difference." He nods, something like determination in his bright eyes.

"That would suit you." I tell him. He smiles at me and nods his head.

"Thanks."

He continues asking me questions, that I'm pretty sure he searched up on the internet. All of them are just general things about myself. I don't mind answering them at all, it's actually fun, but I would like to know more about Joseph instead of all of the focus being out on me, but he usually moves into the next question before I have the chance to ask him anything. I know he's not doing this just for conversation, I can tell by the way his crossed arms allow him to lean closer, green eyes watching me intently that he's genuinely interested in my answer. It makes me like him even more, if that's even possible.

"Okay so, your family?" Is his next question. "I already met your mother and Ella, but is there anyone else? What about your dad?"

"Uh..." it's an easy question, and a simple question to a lot of people but not me. How am I supposed to explain my father's death and the terrible way Mom is without the conversation getting awkward?

"Sorry if it's too personal, you don't have to tell me." Joseph says gently, probably sensing my unease about the topic. I look up to him from where I was staring at the table since he asked the question. His eyes are comforting and earnest and I know he would except me declining the subject in a heartbeat, but what's the point? I'll just be delaying the inevitable if we keep going out.

"My Dad died a couple years ago." I explain, smiling tightly to hide the pang of pain at the thought of him. "Cancer." I add. Joseph lets out a huff of air and shakes his head.

"I'm sorry." He says gently, his eyes holding mine, full of sympathy and oddly anger. My heart warms when I don't find any pity in his gaze. I made the right decision by trusting him with this.

I shrug. "Don't be, it's not your fault." Anyone else would move onto a different subject, so I'm shocked when I feel Joseph grab my hand where it was resting on the table.

"I am though. I'm sorry that happened to you and Ella and your Mom." His jaw clenches a little like he's angry at the world, but his eyes are insistent and earnest. "Life is stupid, and that should have never happened so yes, I _am_ sorry." He squeezes my hand. "If there's anything I can do to help, let me know." He takes his hand back even though I kind of wish he'd keep it there.

"I appreciate it, but I've been doing it myself for two years now so I think I've got it down." I assure him, not wanting to bother him with my home life, even though I know he'd only be too happy to do anything.

He smiles a little. "I'm sure you do. I'm just merely trying to be useful." I smile back and am about to say something when I see the reason he took his hand away.

Our waitress is now right by our table and laying down our food. I quickly take my hand off the surface to make space for my plate, which looks to be steaming hot. It also looks like it's in the running to be the best pizza I've ever had. Joseph must see my amazement because he grins at me, tuning back to his cheerful self easily after our conversation.

"Impressed?" He asks. I nod and he takes a piece out of his own mini pizza and holds it up like he's giving a toast. With his head tilted slightly to the side and a lopsided grin on his face he says, "Well, at least we'll always have pizza."

We eat what is probably pizza better than the school's, and I'm suddenly glad I listened to him and refrained from ordering the fish and chips. We either talk or eat in companionable silence, I'm fine with either. After we're done, I try to pay for my own food but as usual, Joseph insists and tells the waitress to put it all on one bill, explaining to me that "A gentlemen always pays." Which I roll my eyes at with a smile I can't seem to keep off my face.

Later that night, we walk along the dark beach, smooth rocks under our feet that shift with almost every step. I never loose my balance though because sometime between now and when we left the restaurant, Joseph slipped his hand into mine, and he's made it his duty to steady me. I could make it by myself but I'm too busy enjoying the feel of his warm hand to tell him.

Any hint of remaining sun when we got here is now gone, replaced by a dark sky dusted with stars. Only the light from the moon and the campfires dotted around the beach keep us from walking in complete darkness. Though with darkness, comes cold, especially here with the wind off the water. It blows past playing with my hair and sending a slight chill through me, and I find myself walking closer to Joseph. He doesn't seem to mind. A conversation later, we're further down the beach and Joseph seems excited as he suddenly lets go of my hand and bends down to pick up a rock, shifting it in his hand.

"What are you doing?" I ask curiously. Even in the darkness his eyes twinkle.

"Marina of the sea, have you ever skipped a rock?" He asks, arching an eyebrow. I shake my head and his grin widens.

"Well tonight, you will learn." He exclaims. He offers the rock to me but I push his hand back.

"You need to show me first. I want to make sure I have a qualified teacher." I say, gesturing out to the relatively calm ocean.

"Ah, okay. As you wish." He makes his way over the rocks and down to the waters edge, drawing his hand back and tossing the rock, flat side to the surface. I lose track of the rock but I see the water ripple five times. He turns back with an obviously proud grin. "Now you've seen it, your turn."

"I don't know, it looks hard."

"You'll pick it up in no time." He says, seemingly unconcerned.

I shrug and make my way down to where he's standing, already with another rock to give me. He shows me how to hold it and gives me a few tips before giving it to me. I wind up and toss it like I saw him do, but my rock only leaves one ripple before sinking with a small splash.

"Well that was anticlimactic." Joseph comments, joining me again. I laugh and he holds another rock out for me. "Practice makes perfect." He says wisely.

"I don't know if practice can help me, that last one was pretty bad." I say. He laughs and shakes his head.

"No, you are going to learn this." He demands, pointing a finger at me. "You taught me how to skate and how to do French, so now it's my turn to teach you something useful."

I raise my eyebrows at him. "And learning how to skip a rock is useful how?" I challenge. Joseph does that half-smile thing that almost looks like a smirk but without the arrogance.

"Well, I use it to impress girls." He winks at me and I can't help but laugh. "Did it work?" He asks.

"A little." I admit, chuckling.

"Well there you go."

I try to skip the rock a few more times until it finally leaves three ripples in the water. I have to admit, I do feel proud that I did it. Joseph cheers when I finally manage to do it and puts and arm around me. I expect the gesture only to be in celebration but he keeps it there, pulling me closer. I don't mind at all, above all else, I appreciate the warmth.

"So, did it work?" I ask.

He looks confused. "Did what work?"

"When I skipped the rock, were you impressed?" I tease. Understanding dawns on his face and he laughs.

"You never fail to impress me Sea Queen." He replies, glancing down at me before turning back to the water, biting his lip. It's not hard for me to figure out that he does that when he's nervous since he rarely wears the expression and I've only seen it a couple times. The wind blows a wild curl out of his eyes, which look conflicted. I nudge him lightly.

"What are thinking about?" I ask with a light laugh. I expect him to put on his handsome grin and shake off the expression, but he just shakes his head and lets out a huff of air through his nose, looking like he's working himself up to do something. He takes his arm from my shoulders and the cold air is disappointing before he turns to me, a slight smile on his face, suddenly looking more confident.

"This." He says.

The last thing I notice are his emerald eyes before his lips are on mine, warm and soft. I stay frozen for a quick second, unsure of what to do and worried I'll do it wrong. But then, as though I already know what to do, I kiss him back, a thrill in my stomach that I don't think will go away anytime soon. After a moment he pulls back, grinning. I'm too shocked to grin, but a airy laugh comes from me anyway, filled with nerves and excitement. I wish my face wasn't so hot.

"I've wanted to do that since we were at the rink." He says. Even in the dark I can see a blush on his cheeks. I find it hard to formulate a response, too focused on the flipping going on in my stomach.

"Which time?" I finally ask.

"All of them." He replies, a chuckle going though his words. It's only now that I notice his hand is on the back of my neck, his thumb gently rubbing against the base of my hair. "But I figured it would be rude to do it before we even went on a date."

"I wouldn't have cared." Is my stupid response. I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear as he grins again, trusting, earnest, beautiful green eyes gazing down at me.

"Well maybe we should do it again then." He suggests, then his eyes widen. "I mean, if you want. I don't want to pressure you or anything, if you don't want to that's alright too-"

He stops talking when I nod with a smile. He leans down again, this time both of his hands find my face, fingers resting behind my ears. The kiss is stronger this time, both of us less hesitant about it. Unsure of what to do with my hands, I let them rest on his hips, not knowing if it's right. It feels right. It feels perfect.

As we part and he grins at me the same way he did when he first said my name, I can't help but forget everything else. My worries, troubles, fears are gone for the time being. In this moment I can't help but think that everything could turn out alright.

 **So as promised, lots of Navrina and hopefully a satisfying amount of Jix too. I figured it was time for some romantic stuff to go on with Navrina but did y'all think that was too fast? Think they're going not fast enough? Is it good? I don't know? Anyway as always, thank you so much for reading and let me know what you thought of it in the reviews :)**


	12. Chapter 12

**Hey guys, I'm back! Warning: long AN ahead.**

 **I haven't updated this story in like decades, and you guys have no idea how sorry I am. Thank you all so much for being so patient with this even though I've been more terrible than usual. Not one person posted anything rude about my lack of writing even though you had every right to, and I am extremely grateful for that! For everyone that did comment wondering about if the story will continue; yes it will. I am not ending this story, nor do I plan on ending it anytime soon. I'll also assure you that when I do decide the end this story, I will let you all know far in advance.**

 **No, nothing serious was keeping me from writing, but I appreciate your concern. As for the long time without an update, I have one word: School. I know it's a terrible excuse but between that and my never-ending assignments and homework, my writing time has seriously dwindled. I chose a few advanced courses this year and I've been putting most of my time into that instead of updating this. I usually get most of writing done at close to twelve in the night. Like I'm doing right now. Again, you're all so awesome for not getting mad at my stupid updating speed, which I'll admit, needs a ton of work. I've written and rewritten so many parts of this chapter over and over again, and I'm still not completely happy with the outcome. You guys rightfully deserved something though so here it is!**

 **I honestly think the amount of hockey in these last few chapters are getting to me too. I'm so excited to write about something other than hockey in the coming chapters. There's also not that much fluff or anything in these chapters either so I'll definitely have to catch up on that.**

 **Reviews:**

 **Claire (Sept. 2): Thank you for the great review and your continued support, I'm really happy you liked the chapter! I'm loving the enthusiasm and I really hope your phone is okay :)**

 **Rotting Hood (Sept. 2): Hi, first of all, thanks for the review! After I read your review I went back and looked at the chapter and you are completely right, I can't believe I never noticed it! I tried to improve my synonym usage in this chapter and I hope it's better. Thank you so much for the tip, I love constructive criticism so if there is anything else you think I can improve on, please put it in the reviews! Again, thanks so much and I glad you liked the chapter :)**

 **Guest (Sept. 16): Hey, to answer your question, Riley is just a character I made up to replace the number five in the original Lorien Legacies series since I couldn't really find a place for him in the story. I hope that answers your question :) Thank you for the review and if you have any other questions, I will gladly answer them if you leave them in the reviews!**

 **Guest (Oct. 28): Hi! Thank you for the super long review (which I seriously love reading)! I'm glad you're enjoying the series and the characters and I'll do all that I can to have the sentiment stay the same! To answer your questions: 1. I don't know how many more chapters there will be exactly, all I know is that it will not be ending anytime soon. As long as you guys enjoy reading it, I'll be here to write it :) 2. No, I wasn't planning on killing anymore of the garde's parents, I think there's already enough of their parents dead at this point. If you're wondering, the reason I killed off a lot of parents is because in the book, each character is who they are because of what they've lost, and I wanted to keep those character traits. Thanks again for the great review and I hope you continue to enjoy the story :)**

 **ILorienLegacies (Oct.): Hey, thank you for the beautiful review! No, there is nothing serious that's keeping me from writing, but thanks for the concern, it means a lot :) All I have that's keeping me busy is school, but I already explained that so I won't repeat myself. Your review was so kind despite the wait and I'm so grateful for that, thank you so much!**

 **Thank you sincerely to everyone else that left a review or read the chapter, y'all are seriously the best readers ever, no joke. I am eternally grateful for everyone's patience and reviews, so I cannot say thank you enough really :)**

 **Alright, I've gone on for too long. Anyway, read on and I hope you enjoy it!**

 **(P.S: Since it's the last game in the tournament, I'll give you all a fair warning about the sheer amount of hockey description in this chapter, mostly in the last bit. I wrote that in there for the people who want to know exactly what's going on, but if you don't really care for that stuff (I don't blame you) I would recommend that you read the beginning and end of each paragraph so you have some idea of what is going on. The good news is that this is the last chapter of the tournament so there will be a long break from hockey after this, which I'm happy for. Writing about hockey so much is getting tiring and I think we all deserve a change of topic.)**

 **Maren**

I stare drowsily at the cereal box across from me, trying desperately to keep my eyes open instead of falling asleep right here at the kitchen table. Though the idea does sound tempting. I prop my elbow up on the table and rest my head in my hand, focusing again on the cereal box when I feel my eyes start to drift shut. Cheerios. That's what I'm eating. Plain, old, tasteless, boring loops of... whatever cheerios are made out of. I could have picked something else more interesting, but no, here it is. I guess the choice of breakfast food suits me. I mean, I'm not exactly a colourful person. But why would I pick this particular cereal over any of the others?

 _Why not?_ says a voice in my head, and I almost let out an angry sigh when I find that it sounds like John. You know what? _No_. I officially refuse to engage in any type of thinking that may involve that specific teenage boy, at least until after the game tonight. It's a big game and I can't have stupid middle school-like thoughts clouding my focus. I stare at the cereal box and will my mind to be clear. _Just focus on the game, nothing else._

It's not like I should even be thinking about anything else either. There's nothing to think about because whatever happened at the grocery store and whatever didn't happen at the grocery store meant nothing. It couldn't have, or at least I won't let it, or I won't acknowledge it. Yeah, the last one sounds about right. But do I want it mean something? I don't know, maybe? Whatever happened to not thinking about it?

"You look angry." I turn my stare away from the box to see mom leaning against the counter, a cup of coffee in her hand. It's only now that I realize I've been staring ahead of me with malice, not even bothering to touch the bowl of Cheerios in front of me which has now turned into a mess of soggy loops barely managing to stay afloat. I never even heard mom come into the kitchen. "Something on your mind?" She takes a sip out of her mug and eyes me with a hint of caution.

"Absolutely nothing." I answer curtly. Mom raises her eyebrows in a cautious expression.

"Right." She replies slowly. I give her a short nod and lift my spoon out of my bowl, where the soggy loops Cheerios slip off the utensil and land back in the milk with a very unappetizing plunk.

"I don't think I want to eat this anymore." I mumble.

"I don't blame you." Mom grimaces at what's left of my breakfast before glancing at the clock on the stove. "Well, I better be going." She pours the rest of her coffee down the sink.

"You know, you could always take it with you." I suggest. She shakes her head.

"Too much effort." She places her mug in the dish washer before making her way over to the door. "Oh and by the way, I'm coming to your game tonight so you better win." She says jokingly while attempting to slide on a pair of shoes while standing on one foot. I bite back a laugh as she looses her balance and just manages to catch herself, shaking her head. She shoots me a hard look. "Don't say a word." She warns.

I shrug like I saw nothing. "About what?"

She shoots me a thumbs up. "You're a good daughter, Maren." She manages to get both of her shoes on without falling on the floor and grabs her keys, heading out with a quick goodbye before leaving me alone to contemplate the fate of my painfully overexerted cereal. It doesn't take long for me to conclude that it belongs in the garbage, and I'm off trudging back into my room in no time at all.

I get dressed and gradually increase the speed at which I participate in life until it's at a normal level instead of the slow zombie-like walk I've been sporting all morning. By the time my tired body has completed my morningly tasks, someone honks a car horn outside the house. A look to the clock tells me it's exactly one minute after I was supposed to be out. I make my way to the door with an eye roll and throw my school bag over my shoulder before heading out, locking the door after I leave.

Riley's burgundy van waits outside and when she sees that I've made an appearance, she jokingly motions for me to hurry up, laughing when I flip her off. The van door is a little hard to slide open, due to it's heftiness and the fact that it probably doesn't slide as smoothly as it once did.

"I swear, that door gets heavier every time I open it." I grumble when I get in, sinking into the cloth seat after I roughly throw my school bag in the other. I yank the door shut with another slight struggle.

"Or you just get weaker." Riley retorts, immediately jumping to the defence of her terribly outdated family van. She sharply presses on the gas to jerk the vehicle to the edge of the driveway before sending us onto the road with another rough surge of movement. I don't respond to her comment and just send a hard look at her in the mirror, successfully getting my point across.

"You don't seem like you're in the best mood." Marina comments, and I notice the smile on her face. Even though Marina is neither a morning person or a person who despises the early hours of the day (like myself), usually even she doesn't look as happy as she does right now.

"Yeah, well you look too happy." I retort.

"You've noticed too?" Riley agrees, now driving the car out of the subdivision and onto the main road. "I was going to mention it but I figured you would do it anyway." She shrugs. I nod.

"And you were right. So, what's on the go?" I direct the question towards Marina, still leaning back in the seat. I see her roll her eyes in the side mirror.

"Can't I just be happy?" She defends with a nonchalant shrug, but by the way she's beaming I can tell she's excited about something.

"At seven fifty-three in the morning? No, you can't just be happy." I say.

She shrugs again, but she looks far from bored. "Well I just am."

"Joseph took you out on a date didn't he?" I sigh.

"Maybe." She replies. Her cheeks redden a bit but she doesn't seem to care, her face has probably gone numb from grinning by now anyway, so I doubt she'd feel the heat. She looks into the side mirror, where she knows I'm watching her reaction, and raises her eyebrows at my arched one.

"Okay...?" Riley finally asks. Usually she's content with letting me ask the questions, but she must want to know as bad as me.

"Okay what?" Marina asks.

I scoff. "Okay, so what happened?"

"Well, he picked me up and we went to a restaurant, then we took a walk on the beach, we kissed, he drove me back-"

Her sentence stops short as we're both thrown into the side of the car as Riley yanks the wheel to the right, then just as hard to the left, getting us back on the road. She clears her throat. "Pothole." She mutters. "Also, what the hell did you just say?" The last part comes out a bit louder.

"Well I was about to say that he drove me back..." Marina starts, before she catches the glares we're giving her. She laughs at our urgency and I can't blame her. It's not every day that her two friends turn into typical teenage girls begging for a good love story.

"Yes, he kissed me on the beach." She admits, blushing again but beaming along with it. Riley cheers and holds up a hand for a high five, which Marina reluctantly agrees to participate in. I can't stop my eyebrows from shooting up in surprise. That was not along the lines of stuff I thought I would hear this morning. Still, I cheer along with Riley, though my version is a tad less enthusiastic even though I'm just as excited for her.

"That's so cliche but I'm actually happy for you." I say, smiling.

"Me too." Marina replies.

"So are you guys like, dating now?" I continue. This seems to momentarily stump her, her smile tones down and her eyebrows pinch together slightly.

"I guess so?" She answers, apparently unsure of the status she holds with a guy she made out with. I'm about to point out that the answer should probably be obvious, but I stop myself when a grin takes over her face again. She's happy right now, maybe unsettlingly so but whatever. The point is I don't want to ruin it, so I keep my mouth shut.

We arrive at the school without any further surprises, which I'm thankful for since I wasn't in a great mood today anyway, and I'm almost sure that anymore news would not help the matter. I stop at my locker to get my books and Marina and Riley hang around since we got here early enough.

"You know, you're in a worse mood than usual this morning." Marina observes as I grab my gym bag from my locker. I raise my eyebrows at her and close the door, making sure to do it quietly, lest I prove her point.

"Agreed." Riley says nodding. I transfer my stern look to her, which she doesn't seem intimidated by in the least. "What slight inconvenience occurred and upset you?" I roll my eyes, pushing my shoulder off the locker so I can stand upright.

"Nothing." I reply flatly, deciding to give them some vague semblance of an answer. The truth is that I'm stressing about the game tonight more than I'd like to admit, and that's what's probably throwing me off. I wouldn't tell anyone that though.

"Yes, I can see how that would cause..." Marina waves a hand over my sour expression. "This." She finishes sarcastically. Riley laughs, not really concerned with the reasoning for my mood since I'm not known to be the most cheerful person anyway. I'm glad that neither of theme seem too interested in my attitude. Honestly, they know me well enough that they're probably more than aware of my reasoning for my attitude, but they refrain from saying anything about it, which I'm grateful for.

We start to make our way down the hallway when I'm suddenly blinded by a ray of sunlight shining directly through a window we're walking past. I put a hand up to cover my eyes walk for another couple of paces until I realize Marina has stopped.

"It's a nice day today." She comments, not seeming to care about the blinding sun as she looks out the window. Riley looks out too, but her eyes are almost shut in an effort to battle the light.

"Cool, can we go now?" I reply. Marina rolls her eyes.

"We should eat outside." She suggests, ignoring me. Riley screws up her face in disapproval and I just shake my head. She sees our reactions and shrugs. "What? Are you guys hermits or something? We're probably not going to get another nice day like this for a while. We should go out." She defends lightly.

I sigh. Eating outside never works out, there's wind and the blinding sun and flies everywhere. It's just not a fun time. Though it's pretty warm, and if she wants to deal with that while she's eating, who am I deny her of the struggle?

"I don't really care honestly." I shrug. Marina looks at Riley who gives a reluctant grunt of approval, apparently not excited by the idea of going outside either but not wanting to burst our friend's bubble.

"I'm glad you're both so overjoyed." Marina says flatly. "It'll be fine I promise."

 _-page break-_

"No. I'm _not_ sitting there."

Riley's voice rings out behind Marina and I as we stand by our picnic table of choice. We both turn around to see her standing a few feet away, shaking her head with a rare expression of stubbornness on her face. I roll my eyes.

"Just sit down." I say, putting my lunch bag on the table and dropping down on the bench shortly after.

"No way! There's spider webs all over that thing." She insists. I twist in my seat to look at her and sigh.

"Where?"

"Like... everywhere." She gestures at the entirety of the table, laughing a little through her words, though she's far from amused, it's a nervous thing. She's scared to death of spiders, and basically any bug in existence. I know it's a common fear but I still find it kind of stupid, especially considering where we live. I'm not sure spiders can even bite you in this country, much less take your life.

"You're going to have to be more specific." Marina cuts in patiently, now sitting on the side opposite to me and starting to unpack her lunch.

"Fine. Right there." Riley walks a little closer and points to the lower part of the table. I lean back to take a look at it.

"There's no spider in it, it's just a web."

She laughs again, though her eyes are wide. "It could come back, there's still a perfectly good home for it."

"Trust me, whatever it does to you isn't going to be worse than that eye." I say, pointing to the bruised eye she's still sporting. She laughs sarcastically.

"And I wonder whose fault that is?"

"Just sit down."

Riley sighs and stares at the spot cautiously for a second before destroying the web with the toe of her shoe. She sits down next to me after inspecting the rest of the table for another few seconds, apparently deeming it clear of anymore threats.

"Actually, I think there _was_ a spider in the web." I say. Her jaw clenches and she bites out a guarded chuckle.

"You better be freaking joking, Maren." She mutters. I laugh at her but she ignores me, which is probably for the best.

I turn my attention to my other friend who hasn't seemed to notice the exchange that just went on. Instead, her eyes dart back and forth from her food to the rest of the area.

"Looking for something?" Riley asks.

"More like _someone_." I put in. Marina blushes, confirming my statement. "I figured loverboy may be joining us." I continue.

Marina laughs and briefly closes her eyes with an exasperated sigh. "Please refrain from saying anything like that again ever." She smiles tightly at me and I return the expression mockingly. The smile fades though as I remember that Joseph usually eats lunch with John and Stanley. So if Joseph is eating here, does that mean...?

"Ladies, it's been too long!"

I glare at Marina as Stanley's voice cuts through the otherwise calm atmosphere, shattering all hope of a peaceful lunch in its wake. Marina gives me a 'what?' look. I growl low in my throat but turn my glare to the table, knowing that she isn't at fault for the situation.

"Hey!" Joseph sits down next to Marina on the other side of the table and waves to us all with a bright grin.

I almost wave back but it stops as I feel a strong thud go through the table. I look to my left to see that Stanley has taken a seat next to Riley, who looks much less than excited to be serving as a buffer between the two of us. John walks around my side of the table with a kind smile, and looking like he might sit next to me. That is, until he sees my glare. His face forms a cautious expression and he takes a seat next to Joseph. I can't decide if I'm glad or disappointed about it. I take out a sandwich from my bag and take a bite to distract myself from the aura of arrogance that's seated one person away.

"So, how is everyone doing today?" Stanley asks the table, picking up his slice of pizza that is undoubtedly better than my lunch. His question is met with a chorus of noises from our table, all supposed to depict some type of mood. I don't know how Stanley heard the absence of my voice in the mess of sounds, but he turns his head to me anyway, making me automatically glare. "I didn't hear you answer, Maren."

"That's because I didn't." I reply. He feigns disappointment.

"But I want to know how your day is going too."

"It's worse now."

"That sucks. Want a cookie?" He leans his elbow on the table and Holds a chocolate chip cookie between his fingers, smirking at me around Riley, who looks a mix of amused and uncomfortable. "It's really good, made it myself." He continues, seemingly unaffected by my icy stare.

"No you didn't."

He furrows his brows like he's confused, but it's all for show. "Now, why would you say that, sweetheart?"

My jaw clenches so hard at the nickname I fear I may break a few teeth. "Because baking requires a certain level of comprehension, and it's obvious that you need work in that department."

He scoffs. Apparently it doesn't take much to strip him of his calm facade. "I assure you, my comprehension levels are up to standards." He retorts.

"I'm not surprised, seeming how low your standards must be."

He opens his mouth to respond but is cut off with a hand interrupting our staring contest. "Alright, we get forty minutes for lunch, lets not ruin it." John says. He moves his hand but Stanley and I keep our eyes on each other, matching glares on our faces as a silent message of hatred passes between the two of us. We both slowly look away after a few seconds, Stanley picking up his pizza and me picking up my sandwich.

"That sandwich looks disgusting, by the way." Stanley mutters, biting into his pizza.

" _You_ look disgusting." Is my petty retort as I start in on my sandwich. I hope he's really uncomfortable in that suit.

Silence washes over the table for a second, only to be interrupted moments later by a laugh from Joseph. Figures. I haven't known him long but it seems that he can't go a minute without making some kind of joke or cheerful comment. Marina probably thinks it's pretty cute, but I can't help but turn my hard look to him now, though my closed mouth is full of food so it probably doesn't look too intimidating. I already know the rivalry is petty, I don't need to be reminded. Joseph either doesn't see my glare, or is undeterred, because he keeps smiling as he points between Stanley and I.

"You guys should have a sitcom or something. Just the two of you." He takes a bite of something vegetarian looking while a few laughs respond to his comment. The list naturally includes Marina. I roll my eyes but catch Stanley smirking a little, his confidence level unfortunately replenished.

"You know, there's pretty good money in that business. Maybe you should consider, Maren." John says across the table, a teasing grin on his face. For some reason I can't find it in me to glare at him.

"There's not enough money in the world to make me do that." I counter.

"Oh, you wish you had enough money to _do this_ , sweetheart." Stanley smirks and gestures to his body, which is extremely toned no doubt.

"I didn't know you had taken up prostitution as a career, Stanley." Riley chuckles, nudging him a little. His eyebrows shoot up and everyone laughs at his surprise and realization of what he said.

"I didn't mean it like that- I mean..." Stanley's protest breaks into a chuckle and he shakes his head. "Whatever, you gotta do what you gotta do." He plays along, rolling his eyes fondly at the reaction he's caused. I'm shocked to find myself smiling too, though my amusement is definitely a step down from everyone else's.

"Um anyway, aside from the topic of... that, may I ask a question?" John raises his hand slightly with a charming smile.

"You just did." Stanley replies.

John sighs and shakes his head, but otherwise ignores his friend. "Why are we eating outside?"

Riley and I both send a pointed look to Marina and she rolls her eyes. "Because it's a nice day, and people eat outside on nice days."

Disapproval runs through the table, ranging from halfhearted shrugs to mumbled disagreements. Joseph smiles comfortingly at Marina and puts an arm around her, immediately putting a a small smile on her face, accompanied with a slight blush too. Okay, this will take some getting used to.

"I think it was a good idea." He defends. "We might not get another day like this so we might as well make the most of it." He grins and shrugs, the carefree aura radiating from him easily. I can't help but admit that they're a good match for each other, since she's worrying all the time. Maybe they'll balance each other out.

"And we're having fun aren't we?" Joseph continues. He looks around the table searching for signs of approval, but his eyes widen when he gets to me. I arch an eyebrow at him while he shifts around on his seat, his arm that was around Marina now returned to his side.

"What?" I ask.

He clears his throat. "Uh, don't freak out but you have a wasp on your sleeve." He tells me cautiously, pointing at my right arm.

I look down, the yellow and black drawing my eyes to the bug that I never even noticed had chosen to pitch on me. Joseph looks at me like I might explode and Riley shifts away from me, her eyes wide. I roll my eyes and brush it off my sleeve with my other hand.

"What? No! Now it's gonna be mad!" Joseph exclaims leaning back as he tries to keep track of the insect. It flys around for a couple of seconds before landing by Marina, who doesn't give it a second glance. He stares at her, aghast. "It's right there! You should- holy shit I'm out!" Joseph leaps up and nearly trips on the bench, feverishly escaping the table as the hornet pitches on whatever he was eating. Joseph stands a few feet away watching it like a hawk.

"Are you okay?" Marina laughs. Joseph shakes his head stiffly and Marina reaches over and shakes his food container a little so the bug flies off.

"Look, you're saved." Stanley says sarcastically.

The wasp flies over to start inspecting our side of the table, making fast progress. Riley wastes no time before jumping up when the hornet starts bobbing around her food. Her shoe actually gets hooked on the bench in her haste and for a second I think she'll go down, but she manages to catch herself and successfully makes her escape. Riley isn't scared of much else so I don't judge her too harshly for this. I still think it's stupid though. The rest of us look between the two as they share the same wide-eyed expression.

"I'm friends with wimps." Stanley comments, continuing with his lunch calmly. "You know, I don't get why you guys are scared. It's smaller than you so how much damage can it really do?" He reasons around the food in his mouth.

"Really? You know what else is smaller than you?" Riley challenges. Marina and I look at each other and roll our eyes, having heard this argument before.

"A gun." We sigh in unison. Riley nods while a smile of understanding spreads across Joseph's face. Stanley doesn't look so impressed.

"That's a terrible analogy." He shakes his head.

"That is a great analogy." Riley defends

Joseph nods enthusiastically. "I agree."

"You would." John chuckles. "Look, it won't hurt you if you don't hurt it." He reasons, sounding very persuading. Joseph shakes his head immediately, still eyeing he table.

"No way, I got stung before and I promise you that I was nothing but kind to that wasp."

"But did you panic?" Marina interjects.

"Well... a little?"

She rolls her eyes. "There you go."

Joseph scoffs jokingly. "Well excuse me if I'm wary of a flying predator that has a needle for an ass!" He throws his hands in air in what is supposed to be annoyance, but he's smiling so he's not quite pulling the act off.

"Okay then, if you're not gonna come back for you, come back for your girlfriend, who you left to fend for herself by the way." Stanley raises his eyebrows at him disapprovingly and Joseph sends a sheepish smile at Marina.

I watch as the hornet, apparently now bored after making its rounds across the table, flies around me and out of sight. "It's gone so you can come back any time now." I inform them. Riley seems a little suspicious but comes back anyway after a quick scan over the table, Joseph coming back shortly after.

"Now, can we please get back to the point of you leaving your girlfriend in a dangerous situation?" Stanley backtracks, pointing at Joseph.

"Yeah, aren't you supposed to protect me?" Marina teases him. Joseph laughs guiltily.

"Well, you seemed to be doing just fine by yourself and I was scared so..." Joseph trails off with a shrug.

"That's it?" John challenges.

"I could have gotten stung!"

"She could have gotten stung!" Stanley defends, gesturing violently toward Marina. She laughs uncomfortably at all the attention but looks pointedly at Joseph anyway, as a joke of course. I stifle a laugh as Joseph's expression resembles that of a deer in headlights as he looks around at everyone ganging up on him.

The short time we have left for lunch is occupied by tormenting Joseph some more, which turns out to be surprisingly easy as he goes along with everything we throw at him, even attempting a formal apology to Marina for "the wrongs he's done". It goes quickly and soon we're all packing up after hearing the warning bell go. Marina rushes off to go to biology and Joseph trails closely behind, giving us all a warm goodbye before taking his leave.

Since I have chemistry next, I don't rush, and neither does John. He ambles over to where I'm packing up what's left of my lunch as Stanley starts talking to Riley about math or something. I give him a brief smile and nod as he approaches and he returns it with a little more enthusiasm as we both start to walk back into the school.

"Sorry for crashing your lunch by the way." He says, hands in the pockets of his jeans. He wears a slightly shy smile, and I assume that he was probably cautious of coming over here in the first place.

"Don't worry about it." I reply. "And it actually wasn't _too_ bad." I add, not wanting him to feel bad about anything.

He sends me a cheeky grin, his attitude shifting from sheepish to relaxed in a surprisingly short amount of time. "It wasn't too bad, huh? Admit it, Maren, you immensely enjoyed my charming company."

"How can I immensely enjoy your company when you barely talked?"

" _I_ barely talked? I seem to recall that you said no more than three sentences." He shoots back. Then his smile lessens. "Well except for when you were talking to Stanley, which you seemed to enjoy." He laughs through his words but I can sense an under-tone of something else.

I send him a glare, making my distance at his comment known. "Right." I huff sarcastically. John smiles a little at my answer.

"Joseph was right, it is entertaining."

"Glad you were amused." I say dryly. "But I'm sure the novelty will wear off." John nods.

"Oh, definitely. But for now I'm going to embrace it while it's not annoying."

"You're very optimistic."

He shrugs. "I feel like at least one of us has to be the optimist in this relationship, and since you're obviously not going to take up the role..." he trails off, gesturing to himself.

"So we have a relationship now?" I question lightly. John chuckles and reaches up a hand to scratch the back of his neck.

"Hey, you're the one that said we were friends. Remember?"

I roll my eyes. "Well, seeming it was just yesterday, yes I think I can recall something about it."

He chuckles again as we get to the doors and he reaches from behind me to haul one open, letting me go through. Once we're back in the school he wastes no time before catching up to me again.

"Well there's no need to be rude about it." He chides jokingly. "We _are_ friends after all."

"Careful or I might rethink that."

"Uh, that's not fair."

"A lot of things in life aren't fair, John."

"And this is why I'm the optimist."

I let out a short laugh as I reach my locker and start in on my combination. John's formerly stoic expression turns into a grin as he leans on the locker next to mine, making his eyes light up. God, they're so freaking blue.

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" I ask as I restart my combination after failing it for some unknown reason.

"Yeah, Bio." He answers. My eyebrows shoot up as he just continues to calmly stand there.

"Isn't bio kind of important? And by 'kind of important' I mean that you probably shouldn't be showing up late?"

John's eyes widen a little and he looks at a clock behind him as my locker door finally swings open.

"Yeah probably." He looks behind him again as though he's unsure, but he starts backing down hallways after I give him a warning look. "I'll see you at the game?" He asks.

"What do you think?" I reply. He smiles sheepishly and gives me a quick salute before breaking into a light jog down the hallway.

I grab my chemistry book out of my locker with malice and close the door, though my mood has improved despite my unfortunate subject. If lunch is like this every day from here on out, I guess it's something I could live with.

 **Marina**

I barely even notice the wave of frigid air hitting me as I walk into the hockey rink due to the outside temperature being just about the same. Even though it's only 5:30 in the evening, I can already see the darkening sky, and with it comes the leaching of warmth from the air. This is only the beginning though. It's now just after the start of October, which basically means it'll only get colder from here. I don't mind it, winter is my favourite season anyway.

I feel something hit my thigh and Maren curtly apologizes as she adjust the strap of her hockey bag, which apparently just went rouge. I can see that she's feeling the pressure of tonight by her set jaw and stern gaze, the tell-tale sign that she's blocking everything else out to focus. It's a common thing with her and it usually works, though I do feel bad for her. Being the team captain must be a lot of pressure, even for someone like Maren, who doesn't stress out about much. I watch as her and Riley split off towards the change rooms just as a thought occurs to me.

"Wait, Maren?" I call. She stops her progress just as she was about to go through the door that leads to the hallway, and spins around to look at me. Riley narrowly avoids being knocked down by Maren's hockey bag, which swung around from the force of her turn. She raises her eyebrows at me.

"You said that Katarina was coming tonight right? Is she going to be in the parents section?" I ask. A small smirk replaces Maren's stoic expression for a second. I would usually feel good about lessening her stress but I know by the look on her face that her short-lived relaxation will be at my expense.

"Don't worry, you don't need to sit with her. I explained everything to her when I got home. You can go watch the game with your _love_." She drawls. I roll my eyes at her name for Joseph, but heat rises to my face anyway. How long is it going to take before I get used to this?

"Uh, okay. Is she sure though, because I have no problem-"

"It's more than okay, Mar. She was proud." Maren interrupts, already backing through the door. Still unsure of what to do, I look at Riley for support. All I get from her is a very unhelpful shrug as she follows Maren.

"Well, good luck." I call before the doors close all the way.

"Not gonna need it!" Maren responds confidently.

Riley sends me an amused eye roll at our friend's cockiness. "Thank you, Mar!" She calls right before the door closes. I still just stand there, unsure of what to do. I've always sat with Katarina, and I know Joseph wouldn't mind, he'd probably even sit with us-

"Go sit with your boyfriend, Mar!" Maren's voice, muffled by the closed door, rings through the entire main area, loud. I feel my cheeks grow warm again as several people turn their heads to look at me after the attention Maren has drawn. I send her a hard look through the glass in the door, which she merely smirks at, now almost out of sight. I quickly make my way to the stands before anymore attention can be drawn to me.

The first person my eyes find when I search the crowd is Joseph, though he waves wildly to me anyway as though I'm not staring directly at him. I chuckle and wave back before ascending the steps. He's in the usual spot, by a rail above the top row of seats. As I'm going up the stairs my eyes also land on Katarina, and guilt almost makes me stop as I see her sitting alone. But then she turns her head and grins when she sees me, giving me a thumbs up and gesturing for me to hurry up the steps. I smile back, thankful that she gave me a sign that she was okay with it.

"Hey." Joseph greets, beaming as I get to the top of the stairs. He immediately slides over to offer me the spot between him and John, just like every other time I've come. I give a brief greeting to Stanley and John before squeezing into the spot.

"Hey." I repeat. He puts an warm arm around me and presses a quick kiss to the top of my head. My smile is more enthusiastic than I'd like to admit when he keeps his arm around my shoulders.

"Cold?" He asks. I laugh a little.

"If either one of us was going to be cold, it would be you." I point out. He shoots me a handsome grin and uses his free hand to adjust the unneeded wool hat on his head, his curls only visible where they're poking out on back and sides.

"I don't want to catch a cold." He defends.

"Don't worry about it, the hat is a nice touch." I tease.

"The hat is a necessary touch. I don't get how you're not cold." He shakes his head and I shrug. I'd be okay anyway, but his arm around my shoulders sure isn't hurting matters. "Is Ella coming tonight?" He asks.

"No, she has a sleepover at one of her friends houses." I reply. Joseph looks a little disappointed but nods. "If it's any consolation, it was a really tough decision for her. I think you made a good impression on her."

He lets out a relived sigh and I realize that he was disappointed because he though she didn't like him. "Thank god, now there's only one more person to win over." He says, referring to my mother.

"Don't hold your breath on that one." I chuckle.

"Hey, I know we got off on the wrong foot, but I'm determined."

"Well at least you've got that going for you."

"Hey, my determination worked on you." He defends.

I laugh a little. "Well I would hope you're not going to charm my mother the same way you charmed me." I say. He nods seriously.

"Of course not, that would be slightly weird."

"Only a little."

He rubs his hand lightly up and down my shoulder and I'm suddenly reminded of the question Maren asked me this morning. I take a quick glance at Joseph, which he fortunately fails to notice. No, this is stupid, I shouldn't even ask him what we are. Like you don't just kiss someone and label it as not dating right?

"Something on your mind?" Joseph's voice comes through my thoughts and I realize he's been watching me as I engaged in my silent argument. He takes his arm off my shoulder so he can look at me better. There's no hint of amusement on his face though, just his familiar gaze, which I've come to trust more than I probably should given the fact that I've only known him for just over a month. I swallow my embarrassment and chance a look in his eyes.

"What are- no, that's not right, wait..." I struggle, feeling stupid. I shake my head and force the sentence out. "As of now, we _are_ dating. Right?" I look away as his features take on a slightly confused expression and I focus on the floor instead, or the ice, or whatever else there is to focus on.

"Well... I kind of just assumed that we were." He says slowly. Of course he did, that's what I should have done. "But I guess it's really my fault that you're not sure. I should have asked formally. What was I thinking?" He shakes his head in disapproval of himself and I panic a little.

"No, it's fine! Don't worry I just- I was being stupid." I say quickly, but again he shakes his head.

"No, you're right." He appears to think for a second, then nods determinedly. "Alright, here it is..."

"Joseph-"

"Marina of the sea! Queen of the deep, and the holder of my heart..." he places a hand over his chest dramatically, completely turned to face me now, though I still lean on the rail while his performance continues. I try to look exasperated but I can help a smile from escaping. "Sea girl, will you please do me the honour of officially being my girlfriend?"

Joseph looks at me expectantly and feigns nervousness. I roll my eyes with a small, exasperated laugh. "That was completely unnecessary."

He grins, undeterred. "Is that a yes?"

"Yes."

He does a little cheer and throws his fist in the air in celebration which I shake my head at, amused all the same. That is until he leans over the rail and cups his hands around his mouth. "She said yes!" He yells. Several people look back in confusion and I close my eyes as I feel heat rush to my face. I'm pretty sure the ease at which I blush is unhealthy.

"Well look who finally grew a pair." Stanley shoots Joseph his signature smirk and easily leans across John and I to give Joseph a hearty pat on the back. John immediately shoves him back to his spot, and shakes his head, to which Stanley just gives a shrug of mock innocence.

The buzzer sounds and Stanley immediately snaps his focus onto the ice, which Joseph seems pleased about now that he doesn't have to come up with a defence. The cheering from our school is deafening as our hockey team piles onto the ice, starting their warm-ups. Mogadore skates out shortly after and their side is just as ecstatic as they start to skate around their side of the ice. All except for one player. I'm not surprised to see "Dun Ra" on the back of her jersey. I'm also not surprised to see her making a straight path for Maren, who's in the process of distributing a collection of pucks around randomly. Thankfully, Riley sees her coming before Maren does and intercepts her quickly. Phiri tries to skate past but Riley quickly blocks her with her stick, though it's not very forceful so I seem to think the Phiri could slip past if she really wanted to. They exchange a few words before Phiri nods and peacefully goes back to her side of the ice, seemingly satisfied. That's it. No fight. No nothing.

"Um..." John's eyebrows are furrowed in confusion as he continues to stare at the two girls going their separate ways. "What just happened?"

I shake my head, just as confused. "I'm not sure."

Joseph leans over. "Why are we confused?" He asks. Stanley groans before I can get a chance to open my mouth.

"You are helpless. Just stop asking questions." He mutters. Joseph just shrugs agreeably and nods, apparently deeming the statement accurate.

The game gets underway shortly after that, and the first period goes surprisingly peacefully. This is mostly due to the beautiful fact that Maren and Phiri seem to never be on the ice at the same time. With the two most anger-driven people in the game out of the picture there's hardly any reason for any fights, other than the natural rivalry. There are no points scored in the first period though, much like the first game, hopefully the result will be the same.

As the team is coming off the ice after first period for a break, I notice a bright flash out of the corner of my vision. It doesn't take me long to conclude that it's a camera, the person behind it being the one and only Sarah Hart. She's the yearbook photographer and school enthusiast/ sweetheart all rolled into one. She's extremely well-liked in the school, and for good reason. I've never heard a bad thing about the girl and every interaction I've had with her has been nothing but pleasant. She's so nice that I think even Maren would have a hard time coming up with a witty remark about her.

I keep my eyes on her as she looks down at her camera that's always hanging off her neck, presumably inspecting the photo she just took, which just happens to be about the twentieth one that was pointed this way since the game. Sarah tucks some of her perfect blond hair behind her ear before looking up from her camera, her gaze settling near me. Or rather, next to me, at John. He's leaning on the rail at the moment, and when his eyes dart Sarah's way, she takes another convenient look at her camera. I try to keep my staring to a minimum but it's pretty obvious what's going on, especially when she looks back up and waves to him, as though she's the one who caught him looking. I might be jealous of her strong flirting game if she wasn't such a good human being.

"I think that's the twentieth picture she's taken in this direction." I say to John. His eyebrows furrow and he glances down at her like he hasn't noticed.

"Really? Huh, weird." He shrugs and I can tell he doesn't get what I'm trying to say.

"I think she was taking pictures of you." I try after a silent debate on how far I should take this. John shakes his head immediately like the idea wouldn't even be possible, but I nod at him. It's not hard to believe, especially considering how attractive he is. Plus, he's the captain of the mist important team in out school, so that's also another factor.

His face turns a little red and I feel only a tad guilty for his embarrassment. He was probably going to find out one way or another. Again, he shakes his head, not quite convinced as he reaches up to rub the back of his neck. "I don't think-"

He's cut off by another flash and I raise my eyebrows at him. He catches the look and chuckles, his embarrassment thankfully short-lived. "Okay, I see your point." He admits. I nod and give him what I hope he takes as an apologetic smile. "So, what do I do about it?" He asks.

I take a second to answer. I wasn't really prepared to give advice. "Uh, whatever you want to do I guess. I just thought I'd inform you, that's all."

John smiles kindly. "Thanks, I don't think I'll do anything though. I don't feel good about someone who who has taken about twenty photos of me. It's a bit creepy."

I laugh. "Well she is the school photographer." I point out, then shrug. "I don't think she's gonna go make a shrine or anything."

John laughs. "You never know. Gotta be careful." He says wisely.

"Noted, I'll keep an eye out for any shrine-like tendencies then." I play along. He nods. Even though he's smiling I can't help but notice a troubled look in his eyes, which are a captivating blue.

"Good idea." Is all he says before adjusting his tie, as though it wasn't perfect in first place. I decide not to investigate further, figuring I've probably overstepped as it is.

I turn my attention to the zamboni on the ice, going around in slow circles and leaving a smooth surface in its wake.

"Why do they use hot water?" Joseph asks, noticing the steam coming out of where the water is pouring out.

"It freezes faster." I reply. Joseph thinks about this for a second but my answer only seems to make him more confused. "Don't ask why, because nobody knows." I cut in when I see his mouth open, probably to ask another question.

"Oh, good. I'm not stupid then."

"Meh." Stanley shrugs on the other side of John, shamelessly eavesdropping. "Debatable."

Joseph just laughs, unfazed and certainly not offended. I get the feeling that Stanley is the type of person that has to grow on you, though overall, he actually doesn't seem like too bad of a person. Definitely not the monster Maren made him out to be, though I'm sure she would disagree with that statement.

The break soon ends and period two gets started. The line-up includes both Maren and Phiri, the latter sticking to Maren like glue as she has been for the first few games. I can also see the referees keeping a closer eye on them, though nothing noteworthy happens other than a couple checks that look to be a little harder than necessary. I know Maren won't be so easily lured into a fight this game, she's too smart to get herself kicked out of the championship game for something as unsubstantial as a hard push. I do have to commend her on her patience though. After what happened last game and the first one, I want to punch the girl out, and that's a lot coming from me. I know Maren is having the same thoughts, but all I can do is hope she doesn't follow through.

I watch Phiri give Maren another rough shove into the boards again, which Maren seems to have a little difficulty shaking off, though I know it's from anger rather than hurt. _Please, Maren. Don't punch her._

 **Riley**

"I am _going_ to punch her." Maren declares, roughly dropping down next to me on the change room bench. She pulls off her gloves with a little more force than necessary, only just coming in now after the buzzer went off a couple minutes ago to signify the end of the second period.

"Come on, we've talked about this." I chide.

Maren lets out a heavy sigh as she reaches up to unbuckle her helmet. "I know." She says, pulling the helmet off her head and depositing it on the floor by her feet. "No killing Dun Bitch until _after_ the game."

Okay I'll admit, setting up a scheduled time for two anger-driven teenage girls to sort out their problems probably wasn't the best idea on my part. But it was the only thing I could come up with at the beginning of the game to stop Phiri from getting both her and Maren kicked out. I had to do something, and the good thing is that they're both on board.

"But, before the fighting starts, what will you do?" I ask, knowing full well she will just stay silent. "You're going to use your _words_. Right?" This the part of my plan that probably has a less than 1% success rate. I'm going to try to solve things the peaceful way. After that fails I will then happily let Maren beat Phiri to a pulp, not that I have any control over the situation anyway.

Maren gives a huffed agreement. "Yeah, I can think of a few words for her." She starts cracking her knuckles and I eye her cautiously.

"You should stop cracking your knuckles when you're making threats. It's scary."

She smirks. "That's the point."

"Well you'll also get arthritis."

She just shrugs. "I'm not worried."

"Are you ever?" I chuckle.

We both stop talking as our coach steps into the room, immediately going into some stuff about our game plan. It doesn't really apply to me but I listen anyway, even though it's the same plan we've had for every other game. She must recognize this as well because she keeps her explanation quick and easy.

"... so yeah, just work like hell out there. Also, winning would be ideal." Our coach finishes.

"And kick their asses." Maren supplies helpfully. A few laughs go around the room while our coach rolls her eyes in amusement.

"Inspirational words from your captain everybody." She announces flatly.

Maren jokingly does a small bow, well the best she can while she's sat down anyway, earning herself a smattering of joke applause from the group. As anyone could have guessed, Maren isn't the inspirational speech type of captain, she more like the 'be confident and everyone will follow your lead' type, which I don't believe is too hard for her. She's a really good captain, unsurprisingly considering she's great at pretty much everything regarding sports. It's like she has a gift or something.

We're back on the ice soon after that and Maren goes up against Mogadore's captain for the face-off. Maren isn't the only one to do face-offs for our team, but she's close to the best at it which is why she does it so much. When the ref drops the puck, all I see is a quick flurry of sticks until the puck gets shot behind the Mogadore girl, right into one of her waiting teammates. I would guess there's a lot of luck involved in the face-off too, but I'm not really in a position to be making any judgments about it since I just see it as a blur of movement. There's got to be some kind of technique behind it though, it only makes sense.

I snap out of my thoughts when I remember that Maren lost, which means Mogadore now has control of the puck, which they seem very insistent to get down here. They pass the puck until one of the players gets an opening and makes their way down, her team quick behind her while a couple of my teammates skate backwards to stay ahead of her. They skate until they're all the way down here and I know the madness will be on this side of the ice. Wonderful.

I get ready. Crouch, glove up, stick down, legs apart. I don't look at the players, only the puck, where it goes back and forth, and my eyes go with it. It's hard because of the activity around it, and now there's a Mogadore girl in front of me too, ready for a rebound if she gets the chance. I look around her, see someone's stick lift up, then the puck flying towards me. Reflexes cause my leg to shoot down and the puck bounces off the pad with a quick thump. I'm up again in less then a second, back in the crouched position. I can't find the puck for a second until my peripheral vision picks up a flash of movement on the ice on the other side of the net. Before I have a chance to think about how it could have gotten over there, I'm already kneeling on my right leg and pushing off with my left, sliding over in time to deflect the puck and popping up again right after as it ricochets away. The puck is passed to the other side of the ice again so I use the same slide to get back over, but I don't have time to get up before my eyes spot the puck. This time I see what happens before it flies. The girl winds up and I know this shot will be close to eye level. I try to predict where the puck will end up before she lets the shot go, because when a slap shot is flying, you don't see it until it lands. I have my glove up just as she lets the shot fly, and I know I succeeded when my whole arm jerks back from the force of the shot a half-second later. Damn, it was a hard one too. I can tell by the way it stings a little due to the lack of padding in the catcher.

I hear a whistle blow and the crowds cheering floods my senses, like the sound of the whistle enabled me to hear again. They've probably been cheering obnoxiously loud the entire time, but I'm only noticing them now. Breathing hard, I get off my knees and hand the puck to the ref when he comes over. A couple of my teammates make their way over to exchange a few words starting with a "good job" or something along those lines. I tip my helmet up so the mask stays on top of my head and reach back to grab my water bottle off the net. I turn around and see Maren approaching as I take a drink. I raise my eyebrows at her in from of a greeting. She nods back.

"Smooth." Is all she says as she skates past. Though she doesn't leave before reaching up and knocking my mask down so it hits the drink out of my hand. I can hear laughter from the crowd, even a little from the Mogadore side, but I'm not embarrassed.

"Really?" I call. She turns around skates backwards with gracefulness only Marina could match, a smirk on her face.

"You did good, R." She shouts back, shooting me a thumbs up before heading to the face-off that's starting up.

Maren wins this one and the team wastes no time before skating up the ice with the puck, all the way over to Mogadore's net. A girl I know as Sophia Goulding tries a shot but it's deflected. Emily Blake takes the puck and goes around the back of the net with it, only to be met by a Mogadore girl on the other side. Being all the way over on this side of the ice, I strain to see what's happening around the cluster of light orange and black jerseys and only catch glimpses of the puck being passed around. I'm not really caught up on what's happening until I see one of our players skate in front of the net, completely open. I'm not surprised to see number 6 on the back of her jersey. Mogadore should have learned by now to keep a better eye on Maren. She winds up for a slap shot and when the puck comes her way, she lets it fly. I actually feel sorry for the goalie because the force Maren puts behind that kind of shot is no joke. I know because my body has often been on the other side of her shots in practice and sometimes the wind gets knocked out me and I have to breath for a couple seconds before I can continue. I don't see where the puck goes in the net but when the buzzer goes off and Maren throws up her hands, I know she must've landed it.

I grin and smack my stick off the ice since I can't clap. The sound is barely even audible over our schools cheers and Mogadore's booing. The girls that were out for the play all collide in a way that looks painful, but I know they don't care, this could be the winning goal for the game after all. They skate back and the lineup goes in the box for a break, another group of five coming out again.

After what's about another eight minutes of back and fourth, one girl on our team gets a penalty. I don't know what it's for since I was watching the puck when it happened, but she gets sent to the penalty box for two minutes so it was only something minor. But that means Mogadore now has one more player than us, which also means they'll most likely be down here for those two minutes.

The play starts and the puck is immediately brought down to this end, just like I thought. They try a few shots but they're sloppy and I deflect them without a second thought. The puck is being passed around when I notice one player in black going around the back of the net, everyone too preoccupied to notice her, including the refs. I only watch her for a quick second before I divert my focus again to the puck and try to put her out of my mind. The Mogadore girl skates back into the action a few seconds afterwards and I'm immediately suspicious when I see it's Phiri. I can't dwell on it though because now a Mogadore girl is bringing the puck around the other side of the net. A girl from my team chases her to the back of the net and the two fight for control of the puck while I wait at the edge of the net in case the girl tries to make a break for the goal. People from each team come over and it's a mess of black and orange while multiple people fight for the puck at the same time.

I'm still on the position when the buzzer sounds, signalling a goal was scored. What? I didn't even see it go in. I straighten up and snap my head around to see Mogadore celebrating and the girl on my team, Grace, looking just as confused as me. I spin around and sure enough, the puck is inside the net, right in the back. I see Maren climb over the box and make her way over.

"What happened?" She asks, but she doesn't look at me. Her eyes search the net instead.

"No clue." I shake my head and start to question my qualifications as a goalie for a second.

"Wait a second..." Maren leans down for second before suddenly standing straight again, dangerous anger in her eyes.

"Wha-"

"Do you see that?" She growls, deathly quiet. I'm about to ask what she wants me to look at when she goes around to the outside of the net and pokes her stick under. There's a space under the net and by the looks of it, someone lifted it up on purpose.

I sigh. "Phiri."

Maren nods and yells out to ref. As soon as he looks over, she pushes up on the stick handle and uses it as leverage to lift that side of the net. She drops her stick, causing the net to land roughly while she gestures angrily at her display.

"Maren, you might want to calm down a bit." I warn as the referee makes his way over. I wish I hadn't said anything when her eyes flash to me, the look so intimidating that I might be scared if I didn't know her for as long I do.

"Calm down?" She laughs humourlessly. "She did this and they could win now, do you _get_ that?" She doesn't have a great temper, but I don't judge her for it.

"Yes, I _get it_ , Maren." I reply, my voice surprisingly calm despite the irritation bubbling in me, both at her condescending tone and at the situation. "I'm not happy about it either, but I don't think yelling at ref is going to win you any brownie points." I remind her, my tone even. Getting angry will only fuel her temper more, and I'm not the type of person to yell either.

Maren huffs but I can tell I've gotten through to her when she backs up to make room for the referee as she explains the situation. The ref looks thoughtful as he listens, and I know the result would be much different if he was being yelled at. Maren has a quick temper, but when it comes down to it, she's far too smart to lose this fight because she lost control.

The ref asks me for my report after he's done talking to Maren and I tell him what happened. He nods and moves to get Mogadore's version of the events.

"Sorry." Maren says gruffly when he leaves. I assume she's talking about how she got angry with me and I shrug.

"Don't worry about it." I reply, even though she doesn't really have anything to be sorry for. "Thanks for not punching her yet." Maren knows that I'm referring to Phiri without me having to say.

"It's been hard."

"I don't doubt it."

We both stand at the net and keep an eye on the referees as they circulate to talk to coaches, then station themselves at centre ice to discuss. This lasts for a couple of minutes until they finally part ways and the head ref puts up his hands for silence as the other two skate away. The crowd goes mostly silent except for a small current of murmurs that nobody could hope to stop. The crowd erupts in noise again after his announcement that the goal counted. Our school boos and Mogadore's cheers, both sides equally loud. This happens sometimes, a ref makes a call based on what he saw and what he's hearing, and I'm willing to bet Mogadore had a very different version of events to tell him.

I hear Maren pretty much growl beside me. "Fuck this shit." She mutters, pushing off to skate toward where the referee is retreating to a face-off circle. I sigh and grab her by the arm.

"It's not changing now, Maren. Plus, I think coach is already giving him a mouthful." I point to where coach Murphy is leaned over the side of the box, trying desperately and angrily to get the ref's attention, though he doesn't look too interested in talking to her.

"Fine." Maren concedes, still looking over. Our coach, apparently given up on her attempts to yell the ref into submission, calls the whole team to the box, to discuss strategy I'm guessing. Maren shakes her head as if she has to physically convince herself to go over to the box instead of approaching the refs to plead our case in a not-so-nice fashion.

The whole team skates over to the box, even me, who the plan doesn't apply to since my job is always the same. That's why I like being a goalie I think. I've always had a thing with patterns and simplicity, it's why I like math and anything else that's logical. I have literally one job as a goalie, and that's to keep the puck out of the net. Pretty simple agenda to follow compared to the tasks Maren or any other player has, which can range from shooting at the net to deciding when to pass the puck. I would much rather my position to any of the others.

When the short timeout is over, Maren trails behind me on my way to the net. "I need you to do something." She tells me.

I shrug. "Sure, what is it?"

"Alright, when we get under a minute left to this period, Mogadore might get ballsy and take in their goalie so they can put out an extra player." She explains as we reach the net. I lean on the net a little and face her, motioning for her to go on, though I don't really know what she's asking yet. "You know, so they can get another goal." She adds.

"Yes, I know how hockey works." I chuckle. Maren gives me a small eye roll.

"Whatever. Anyway, you might not get the chance but if you do, just shoot the puck towards their side." She says casually. I raise my eyebrows in disbelief.

"Shoot? As is the puck?" I ask. Sure I've passed the puck to one of our players before but that was only when this side of the ice was relatively empty. I've never actually shot anything any distance before.

"Yes, that's literally what I just said." She replies, seemingly nonchalant about this. I clear my throat.

"Okay, um, you know I've never actually like, _done_ hockey before. Right?" I gesture to the net. "This is what I do. I don't shoot things."

Maren rolls her eyes yet again, probably because I look a bit alarmed. "I'm not asking you to _do hockey_." She says with a smirk of amusement. "I just want you to shoot it somewhere in that direction so we can have a chance of getting it down to their side, that's all. You don't have to get a goal or anything."

"Okay, so how am I going to do that while they're shooting at me?"

"That's why I said if you get the chance. It probably won't even be an option." She shrugs, looking out at the ice while I nod seriously.

"Yeah, it's a bit of a long shot." I say, forcing my tone to remain neutral. Maren nods, but her eyes dart to me after a second, a tired look replacing the calculating gaze she had worn a moment ago, though I can still see she's amused.

"Was that a pun?"

"Was it? I didn't even notice." I feel a smile tugging at one corner of my mouth even though I try to keep it down.

"Why do I even associate with you?" Maren shakes her head, not even bothering to hide the smile on her face, though she's definitely not as amused at my joke as I am.

"Probably for the free math tutoring." I suggest. Maren nods but the ref blows his whistle before she can say anything, signalling the continuation of the game. "Well, that's your cue." I tell her.

"Nah, I'm benched for now. Good luck though." She says, not seeming too happy about it, but I know our coach would want to save her energy for when the period is coming to a close.

"You too."

I see our players take position at centre ice, and feel suddenly anxious when I picture the puck coming down here. How will I know to shoot it? What would the opportunity even look like? I don't know, but I have at least a couple minutes to figure it out since Mogadore will likely wait until the last minute to play a risky move like that, if they even do it. Most teams would just keep their goalie on the ice, since they aren't down a point or anything, but Mogadore has been known to be overly arrogant in the past so I wouldn't put it past them.

A minute goes by and Maren comes out of the box, just as predicted. The best players need to be out for the last minutes, and that almost always includes the captain for every team. Of course this means that Phiri is out also, because as much as I hate to admit it, she's one of the better players on her team and more clever than she gets credit for. Though, the fact that Maren's arch nemesis is on the ice doesn't worry me near as much as the time left in the clock, which has now come down to two short minutes. The players make a few passes up at this end of the ice, but I don't have to do anything other than block a few easy shots, now frantic in the attempt to score before the quickly dwindling time runs out.

One minute left and the puck is on this end of the ice. Around my focus on the puck, I see Mogadore take in their goalie and another player takes the ice in her place, quickly making her way down here to join the rest of her team. One extra player might not seem like a lot, but when the teams are as even as we are, one player could mean the difference between a goal and overtime. And I know nobody favours the latter option.

I keep my eye on the puck as it goes around, now being passed more frequently due to one player always being open. The shots come more frequent too. They aren't calculated, difficult shots, more like rushed in any chance they get. Still, constantly moving from one side of the net to the other is tiring to say the least. Then I remember that the players on my team have to constantly skate up and down the length of the hockey rink, so I suck it up. There's not much more to endure anyway, thirty two seconds more to be exact. Then the game will go into overtime, and everyone will be tired and worn out and angry and it won't be good, but it's starting to look like a reality. With Mogadore having complete control of the puck, and the extra player on the ice, it's nearly impossible for our team to even get near their net, much less score a goal.

I keep watching the player with the puck until somebody skates in front of her for a moment, and when they move I see the puck is gone. My heart stops for a minute before my eyes begin their frantic scan across the ice. Then I see it, already on its way to the net on the side of the net I am unfortunately not on. It's definitely too late to try and slide over, and maybe too late to do anything. My reflexes kick in anyway, my arm shoving my stick in that direction before I even tell it to. This type of reaction is the least graceful part of goal tending, the scrambling, blindness, flailing, all in an attempt to stop something you didn't even know was coming. But somehow, it ends up working.

The puck bounces off he blade of my stick. It only takes me a second to recover, and I'm about to get back into position when I realize the puck is still there, almost right next to me. I remember what Maren told me and know this is what the opportunity looks like. I get to where the puck is and look up to see several girls from both teams rushing towards me.

I don't think, I just pull my stick back and fire it as hard as I can. I hardly expect it to even make it out of this end of the ice, I hardly expect it to make it far at all, but it does, and it's aimed right for the net. My stick isn't built for power, but that puck goes faster than the Mogadore girl chasing it. It crosses the centre line all the way to the other end of the rink. All the way to their net. With nobody there to defend it, the puck easily goes in, followed by the sound of the buzzer.

I just stand there for a moment, the roar of the crowd washing over me as I stare in disbelief. I stay that way until someone slams into me from the side, then the other side, and soon the entire lineup is surrounding me, everyone tight together in celebration. Pretty much all of my teammates are taller than me (even though I'm not even that short) so for a moment all I can see is the orange and white of our jerseys. It's not like this has never happened to me before, but usually it's at the end of the game, when the whole team is celebrating together. I guess we've pretty much won now anyway since a glance to the clock tells me that there's now only 23 seconds left.

This time there's no debate about the authenticity of the goal, and the next face-off gets underway shortly after our celebration. Mogadore's goalie is back on the ice for the last few seconds, but it's not necessary. After a 23 seconds of uneventfulness, the buzzer goes off and we win. Our players stream out of the box, throwing off their helmets and gloves before coming together in a huge, cheering mass of bodies, myself included.

After that calms down, I start towards the middle of the ice, talking to a couple of the other players as I attempt to avoid the multitude of helmets and gloves randomly strewn around the ice. I almost trip a few times, not being as nimble as as everyone else. It doesn't help matters when Maren comes up and bumps me with her shoulder, apparently expecting me to have to same balance as she does. I stumble a little but manage to stay upright, which is fortunate because she would most likely make fun of me for ages about it if I fell.

"So you _can_ do hockey." She says like she didn't just almost knock me over. We go slowly and the other two girls drift ahead in their own conversation.

"Yeah, I've just been hiding my talent for twelve years." I reply flatly, though there's a smile on my face. Maren laughs and I redo my hair as we continue a lazy journey towards centre ice. Maren has the same idea and stops so she can put her into its usual ponytail. I wait for her, watching as each team starts lining up to do that hand shake thing to show we're all still friends, but we all know we'll still hate each other.

All of a sudden, I hear a series of sounds at once; a growl, a thump, and a grunt. It only takes me a second to realize the sounds came from behind me, where Maren was standing a minute ago, but a look behind me tells me she's no longer in the same place. Instead, she is now a few feet away, a vicious-looking Phiri latched onto her jersey and pulling her back upright from what I assume to be the result of a push. She's not just pulling her up though, she pulling Maren right into her fist. I recognize the move as the same one Maren used on Phiri last game, though it looks a lot better when your friend isn't the one getting her face beat in. Unfortunately, Maren was caught off guard and can't react quick enough to avoid the punch and it goes right into her face with nothing to lessen to impact. Maren shows no sign of pain as her face contorts in anger and she begins to fight back, but Phiri already has an edge in this fight after getting to Maren first. Before the fight can get too heated, I move forward and use all my force to rip Phiri off Maren, who's was latching onto her just as tightly.

"What the hell? I said after the freaking game." I struggle to refrain from snapping at her, which would be something that is very unlike me. Phiri rolls her eyes angrily and uses two hands to shove my chest, sending me backwards and almost making me trip over a stray helmet.

"This _is_ after the game!" She spits out through her still-bruised face. With fire in her eyes, she starts coming towards me. Powerful anger fills me, the feeling so unusual that I'm almost startled for a second when I realize my hands have balled into fists.

"That's not what I meant and you know it." I say through clenched teeth. She smirks and shoves me again, leaving me stumbling back another several feet.

"Oh yeah? What are you gonna-"

I don't think, I just let my arm shoot forward, my hand connecting with the side of Phiri's face, which looks a mixture of surprise and anger. She falls and satisfaction rushes through me before the realization kicks in.

Holy crap, I just punched someone.

And holy crap, punching someone _hurts_.

I would have expected the pain to be more like crunch. Instead I feel a snap. A cold, hard, stab of pain that starts at my thumb and shoots all the way up my wrist. If I swore I would have a few select words to say now as I pull my hand back and lean over, letting air out through my teeth as I cradle my right hand. I've seen Maren just shake out her hand after punching someone, but I don't think that would help me now. Is this how it's supposed to feel?

I hear laughing and turn to see Maren, bleeding from a cut on her cheekbone, but obviously not caring. "Where's your fucking words now, R?" She teases, skating over while a ref pucks Phiri off the ground. I feel a strange mix of disgust and pride at my actions. Maren looks like she's about to continue with her praise until she sees my state. "Holy shit, are you okay?"

I nod my head a little as I stand up straighter, attempting to ignore the pain. Maren looks concerned so I put on a smile. "Woah, what happened to your face?" I joke, repeating the same thing she said when somebody kindly punched me. She doesn't laugh and I let my smile fade and press my lips together. "Tough crowd." I mutter.

"Let's see the hand." She demands, unconcerned with the blood now running down her cheek, like a hard punch to the face is just something she's used to shaking off.

I sigh a little and lift my arm. The movement jostles my hand a little and pain jabs through the area again, making me grit my teeth to stop a groan. She squints at my hand, where the base of my thumb is already swollen and beginning to bruise. It also looks like the knuckle is pushed in slightly more than it should be.

"You punched with your thumb on the inside, didn't you?" Maren says, more of an accusation than a question.

"Well, I don't know. I wasn't really focusing on it." I admit.

"Can you move it?"

I try but I can't even begin to move it before pain shoots all the way up my wrist. I take a sharp breath in. "Yeah, I don't think so." I mutter tightly.

Maren sighs. "You're supposed to punch with your thumb on the outside, like this." She holds up a fist to demonstrate. "If you punch with it on the inside then... well, I think it's broken." She concludes.

"Are you kidding me?" I ask, already knowing the answer. I groan when Maren shakes her head. "Do I have to go to the hospital?"

"That is where you usually go when you have a broken bone." She teases. I roll my eyes a little and shake my head at my own stupidity.

I see coach Murphy coming across the ice and it's only now I realize that almost the entire stadium is looking this way, waiting to see if it's serious or not. Just so they stop looking, I stick a thumbs up in the air even though the news is kind of a lie. The cheer from our school's side of the ice tells me they believe it, and they go back doing whatever they were doing before the action started.

I try and fail to lie to my coach about my hand being fine, and it turns out I'm going to have to miss a couple weeks of hockey practice, and I have to go get a cast put on it. She gives me some ice for it in the meantime. My injury isn't urgent enough that it prevents me from staying for the victory picture though, and our triumphant exit from the ice.

The guys hockey team is already waiting in the hallway when we go back to the change rooms and they pound their sticks on the ground as a form of applause. I'm talking with another girl from the team when I'm suddenly grabbed by my shoulder and pulled to the side. Being off balance from the skates, and trying to navigate around the bulky goalie equipment causes me to stumble right into somebody. It's a miracle my hand doesn't get squat or something.

"Did you go deaf or something? I called your name like twenty times!" Stanley shouts in my ear as he helps me stand upright again. He doesn't have his helmet on yet so I have no trouble seeing the teasing grin on his lips. I try to move backward but the current of people flooding the hallway is too dense, so I have stay almost leaning up against Stanley.

"It's a little hard to hear at the moment!" I yell back over the clattering of sticks, excited cheering, and stomping feet. Stanley nods and says something that looks like "right".

"So, how's the hand? It looked like it hurt bad!"

"My thumb is broken." I reply with a shrug. Stanley looks confused so I yell it louder and I know he hears it when when he cringes and makes a fist.

"You're supposed to punch with your thumb on the outside-"

"I know." I interrupt him, rolling my eyes a little. Does everyone know how to throw a punch but me? Stanley smirks.

"If you knew, then why is your thumb broken?" He teases. I make a sound that sits between a laugh and a sigh, at a more normal volume than the start of the conversation since most of the girls are now in the change room. This also means I can take a step back since the hallway is no longer flooded with people.

"I know now." I clarify.

"If it's any consolation, it was awesome."

"Tell that to my thumb." I joke. Stanley laughs.

"Is that your writing hand?"

"It's my writing hand."

"Ohh." He sucks in a breath through his teeth.

"Thanks for the encouragement." I chuckle, looking back towards the change room where I know it'll take me twice as long as usual to take my gear off. "Anyway, I got to go now."

"Oh yeah, don't let me keep you." He waves me off. "Oh and next time you go to punch somebody, remember what I told you. Knowledge is power you know." He taps his head with his index finger like he's said something meaningful. I roll my eyes a little as I reach the change room door, pushing it open with my back.

"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind." I disappear into the change room, only noticing now that my hand has toned down to a strong throbbing.

Getting my gear off takes a shorter amount of time than I thought it would, of course with some of Maren's help to speed up the process, and soon we're walking up to the stands, the air conditioned area suddenly cold now that all the extra layers are gone. We go out to the van to drop off our bags before making our way back inside and heading up to the usual spot the stands, where Marina, Joseph, and now Katerina are waiting. Marina looks happy for us, but also a fair amount of concerned. I lean over to Maren as we're walking and try to make it look casual.

"Can you lie for me? I want to stay and watch the guys' game and Mar will make me leave if she knows."

"I mean, you probably should get to the hospital sooner rather than later." She replies, seeming like she's weighing the options. "But sure. She'll probably find out anyway though."

I nod and we stop talking once we get in earshot of the group. When we get close enough, Katerina puts her fist in the air in a little cheer before wrapping her arms around us both at the same time

"Look at that, the stars of the game!" She beams, her arm squeezing me with surprising strength. I laugh while Maren only lets out a slight huff of amusement. Katerina pulls back and immediately tuts when she sees Maren's split cheek. "You should really wipe the blood off your face, kid."

"Nah, it makes me look tough." Maren replies, though she wipes at her cheek anyway.

Marina snorts at that comment. "Trust me, you look scary enough without the blood." She laughs. We all nod.

"That's very true." Joseph says. Maren raises her eyebrows at him challengingly and he quickly turns his focus to me, holding up a hand for a high-five with an extremely enthusiastic grin. I slap his hand with a short cheer, well the best I can anyway since I'm holding the ice pack in my good hand. "Yeah, go team!" He cheers when Maren actually participates in the high-five too.

"Yeah, you guys did really good." Marina congratulates us with much less enthusiasm than her boyfriend, but it's at a normal level. "And did you hurt your hand?" Wow okay, jumping right to the worrying.

"It's not too bad." Maren cuts in, effortlessly lying. "Just gonna be a bit of a bruise." She shrugs uninterestedly.

"Is it fine?" Marina asks me this time, knowing she can get better read on me than Maren.

"Well, yeah. It's like... what she said." I shrug and point to Maren. I know by the exasperated expression on her face that I wasn't very convincing.

Marina shakes her head at my attempt to lie and holds out her hand. "Let me see."

"Come on, it's really not-"

She raises her eyebrows at me like, 'don't argue' and I sigh defeatedly. "You're going to make a really good mom someday." I say as I lift my arm slowly and remove the ice pack before showing it to her. Her mouth drops open at the dark bruise now taking over the base of my swollen thumb.

"A _little_ bruise?" She scoffs, shaking her head.

"It's really not as bad as it- Frig, Mar!" My protests get cut off by Marina suddenly tugging my wrist toward her, the sudden movement causing a stab of pain to rush through the area. "Maybe lets not do that." I suggest through a pained chuckle.

"You need to get to the hospital. This is broken." She states.

"Yeah, we will, but I have an idea..." I propose, though she doesn't really look like she's in the mood to be making deals. I gently take my hand back and press the ice pack to it again. "I'd say my bone will probably hold on for at _least_ another two hours-"

"No." She interrupts. "You are not staying for the game. You need a cast."

"Really, Mar? Come on."

"Do you want a deformed thumb? Because that's what will happen if you leave it."

"Seriously? My thumb isn't going to grow back together in _two_ hours."

"Where are your keys?" She holds out her hand and I sigh and unclip them from the belt loop on my jeans, dropping me in her hand. She smiles triumphantly.

"I don't know why your so happy. You do realize you're going to be sitting in a waiting room for half the night, right?" I joke.

"It's not going to be half the night." She argues.

The statement is actually half true, depending on the severity of the people in the emergency room, you could be waiting for hours. I'm not confident that having a broken bone counts me as a particularly severe case among the others that could be there.

We leave and Marina drives my van to the hospital. When we walk into the emergency room, there are already about twenty people scattered over the benches, a couple of people are actually sleeping. Not really an inspiring sight. This will be a long night. Good thing it's Friday.

 **Alright, there it is. Like I said, I'm still not completely happy with it but I hope it was at least sufficient. I understand that this chapter was a bit uneventful in respect to the developing relationships and such, but don't worry, I plan to get right back into that next update! I don't know when the next update will come out but I'm hoping that it's under the three month mark.**

 **Also, I didn't do the boys game in this chapter because it's already super long. You guys have two options to vote on:**

 **1\. If you want, I can add the guys game to this chapter later**

 **2\. I'll do a brief description of what happened in the next chapter**

 **Let me know which one you want please! This story is for you guys so I'll do write what y'all want :)**

 **Thank you for reading and I hope you liked it. Next update will focus more on the characters, I promise! Anyway, tell me what you thought of it in the reviews and thanks again for reading :)**


	13. Chapter 13

**Hey guys, I'm back and thankfully under the month mark!**

 **I asked what you guys wanted me to do about the guys game last chapter and I got an equal number of votes for a brief description or a whole scene for it. Since it's a tie, I decided to use my own discretion and do a brief description in this chapter. I'm sorry for the people who wanted the other option, but I did this so I could get this chapter up faster, so I hope it's okay!**

 **Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed last chapter, I love hearing what you guys think :) Anyway, that's it from me, read on and I hope you enjoy!**

 **Marina**

"Did you hear about the storm tonight?"

Joseph leans his shoulder on the locker next to mine, the side of his head pressed against the door so he looks down at me with a lopsided smile. He has his school bag slung over one shoulder and a hand in the pocket of his jeans, looking the definition of casual as everyone bustles around us in a rush to get out of the building.

"Is that all anyone can talk about today?" I ask lightly, crouching down to grab my French and math from the bottom of the locker. When I stand back up Joseph greets me with raised eyebrows. The expression could almost be described as offended if I didn't notice the way his lips tugged up at the corner and the playfulness shining in his eyes.

"Hey, if the power stays out we won't have school tomorrow." He reminds me, shaking his head slightly like he's chiding me. "This is not an event to be taken lightly, your majesty." He narrows his eyes at me but by the way the corner of his mouth quirks up into a smile, I can tell he's taking the situation anything but seriously.

"Right, I'm sorry. I forgot that lives were in the balance." I roll my eyes and his smile turns into a proper grin, causing me to mimic the expression.

"I hope you have your storm shelter ready, it's supposed to get pretty bad." He says, shrugging. "I mean, I have a generator and stuff so you could come over to my place if you want." His easy smile is suddenly replaced with wide eyes. "Not in _that_ way by the way. I just meant if like... you know..." he shakes his head at himself as a smile inches it's way across my face at his nervousness. "Anyway, the option is open." He finishes, a little pink in the cheeks, causing me to stifle a laugh.

"Thanks, but given the amount of rain we're going to have, I'd probably drown on my way over there." I say. "Plus, I already told Maren I'd go over to her place to storm watch." I continue, attempting to fit my book in my school bag as it gets stuck on the side and I struggle with it. Joseph arches an eyebrow at me, another confident smile tugging at the corner of his lips. I lean my head on the side of the open locker, his face suddenly more interesting than the math problems I've been assigned.

"Storm watch?" He questions, tilting his head.

"Maren just likes to watch the lightning and stuff, I don't know." I shrug and he nods understandingly.

"Talking about me?" Maren's voice comes seemingly out of nowhere, and I quickly turn from my locker to look for her in the hall. When I can't see her I turn back, only to find her leaning her shoulder on the other side of my locker, arms crossed. She smirks at my confusion.

"What the hell? Were you invisible or something?" I ask.

"I don't know, was I?" She waggles her eyebrows at me and I laugh, hauling my school bag out of the locker with the book half-hanging out of it as a result of my struggle. She reaches over and fixes the book with a casual push, like I haven't been struggling with it for the entirety of two minutes. "You would have gotten it eventually." She says, noticing my hard look.

"That's encouraging." I roll my eyes and she chuckles. A bruise has formed on her cheek since the game, but she doesn't seem affected by it in the least.

"Hello ladies. And Maren." I turn to my left to see Stanley standing next to Joseph, both hands holding the straps of his school bag by his chest. He has a smirk on his face that I've come to know as his natural expression. Unsurprisingly, any hint of amusement on Maren's face has now been wiped clean due to Stanley's presence. Instead, she only regards him with mock neutralness.

"You know, I'm actually impressed. I've never known anyone that could fit their _entire_ vocabulary into one sentence." She nods and shoots him a thumbs up. Coming from her, the gesture might as well be a middle finger.

"Hello to you too, Miss Congeniality." Stanley quips, his wit just as quick as Maren's. He grins as her eyes harden. Next to me, Joseph's shoulders shake from hardly suppressed laughter. "It must be hard having no joy in your life." Stanley feigns sympathy and Maren only shrugs.

"Not as hard as it is for you to walk around with your head stuck up your ass." She stares deadpan into his eyes, not even flinching as Joseph finally lets out the laugh he's been holding in.

I try not to let my amusement show, but know I failed when I feel a smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. I pass my school bag to Joseph so it's easier to zip it up, Maren and Stanley continuing their death staring contest on either side of us.

"Uh oh, should I interrupt? This looks intense." Riley grins as she passes by in the mass of people, about to take a spot next to Maren, who looks far from happy about our friend's comment. Stanley's eyes move from Maren's at the new presence and he seems to remember something.

"You. Here." He grabs Riley's arm and her eyes go wide before he pulls her out of the moving river of students, where she stumbles to the side in her surprise. Her grabs her shoulder to keep her from falling into the lockers and she raises her eyebrows at him in what I think is supposed to be a warning way, but she can only manage a light chiding effect at best.

"Yeah, broken hand here, thanks." She scolds, though her naturally kind expression doesn't go away, so her words aren't really threatening. Stanley just smirks at her.

"Do you have your math notes?" He asks, not even apologizing. "I have some questions to do tonight and I need better notes then I have." She rolls her eyes.

"I told you I'd bring them didn't I? In my bag." She turns around so he can unzip her bag while I zip up my own, Joseph handing it back to me with flourish.

"For you, m'lady." He says grandly, a broad grin on his face. I roll my eyes and take it from him, slinging it over my shoulder. "So I heard you like storms?" He asks Maren, who still looks bitter from her exchange with Stanley.

"Mostly just the lightning and thunder, but the wind and rain are good too." She replies, finally focusing her steely eyes on Joseph instead of staring angrily into the distance.

"Yes, there is something magical about the friction of air practicals producing electricity isn't there?" He muses. Maren's eyebrows shoot up and she almost looks impressed. I am too a bit.

"I think that's the smartest thing I've heard you say, ever." She says.

"I aim to impress." He says with a wink. Maren presses her lips together at the gesture, her praised expression disappearing. Joseph sighs. "The wink was too much, right?"

"Just a little." She replies.

"Damn it." He mutters and she smiles a bit.

"You'll get it eventually." I tell him, closing my locker and putting the lock on. I see movement out of the corner of my eyes and turn to see John stray out of he crowd to stand by Maren.

"Hey." She says to everyone that's paying attention, which excludes Stanley and Riley, who stand behind Joseph arguing about the location her math notes.

"Wow, looks like the whole gang is here." Joseph says brightly, as though we're not taking up half the hallway.

"Please never describe us as a _gang_ ever again." Maren deadpans. John only grins at her attitude, not seeming threatened by her tone in the least. His eyes are kind.

"I don't know, I kind of like it." He says, clearly only agreeing with it to spite Maren, who huffs in disapproval.

" _You_ would." She says. John's raises his eyebrows challengingly at her, surprising since most people would rather leave their dignity in tact rather than give her the opportunity to show them up.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He questions. She shrugs, looking up at him.

"Use your imagination."

John laughs and Maren's stoic expression breaks then, a smile spreading over her face, light and teasing. Funny since keeping a straight face is never really an issue for her. John looks away and shakes his head fondly, the grin still there and something in his eyes that's hard to place. Then Maren looks away and John's eyes linger on her, his smile fading a bit but the affectionate look still there. He quickly looks away and reaches a hand up to rub the back of his neck, stuffing the other in his pocket. I know immediately that he likes her, it's not all that surprising considering who she is. She's hard to win over though so John has a long road ahead of him, but I think he already knows that. Poor guy.

"Anyway," he says, taking his hand down. "I just wanted to see if you were ready to go." He looks at Joseph and I assume he's giving him a ride.

"Oh yeah, I'm good whenever." Joseph says, pushing himself off the locker quickly as though he'd need to run at a moments notice.

"Yeah, we should go now. I want to get BK out before the storm hits." John replies.

"BK?" I ask.

"My dog." He explains, shortly but kindly. "Anyway, see you guys." He starts to walk away and Joseph waves to me and Maren before taking a few steps in the same direction.

Just as I'm about to turn back to Maren, he suddenly steps in front of me again, shaking his head like he's chiding himself. "Sorry, I'm so stupid. I forgot something."

Before I can reply, his lips are on mine, his hand curled around the back of my neck. I close my eyes immediately as warmth fills me, like he's physically responsible for the feeling. The kiss ends too soon in my opinion, but given there are people around, it was probably an acceptable duration. He grins as he pulls away, the look in his eye igniting that nervous, giddy, awesome feeling again.

"I figured it was about time we did that again." He shrugs. Caught by surprise by what just happened, I can't do much more then open my mouth, willing words to come out but not able to think of anything coherent. John calls for him to hurry up from down the hallway and Joseph leans down and gives me a quick kiss on the forehead. "Catch you later, Sea Girl." He smoothly steps around me and waves to Maren before getting dissolved into the crowd.

"Yeah, uh... see you." I say, my mind finally catching up after he's long gone and has zero chance of hearing me. I roll my eyes at myself and press my head against the locker next to mine, exasperated at my situational lack of coherent thoughts.

"Why am I like this?" I sigh, closing my eyes.

"Because your in love, and your nervous, and you were surprised..." Maren shrugs. I look at her out of the corner of my eye and a wry smile appears on her face. "Because you just got kissed in the school hallway."

Warmth fills me again, but this time I know it's only from a blush spreading across my cheeks, full force due to her reminder. I turn so my shoulder leans up against the lockers and try to give her a glare, but I can only muster it for about two seconds before a grin inches it's way across my face. Again, as a result of her reminder.

Maren rolls her eyes at me, a smile working it's way onto her face too, though her's is amused and mine is more giddy. "Yeah yeah, we get it, you're in _love_." She drawls. I wrinkle my nose at her.

"Jesus, finally!" I turn as Stanley triumphantly pulls an exercise book from Riley's bag with a frustrated look. "How much stuff do you have in there?" He mutters.

"Oh, only bio, English, and chem." She replies. He raises an eyebrow at me over her shoulder.

"Right, only." He rolls his eyes and zips her bag back up.

"I like to get it all done at once, make a day out of it." She explains, then looks up. "You guys didn't have to wait on me, I brought Mavis today."

"Mavis?" Stanley asks.

"Her van." I say, and the confusion on his face clears up. He nods like it's normal.

"We weren't." Maren continues with our former conversation. "We had to wait for lover boy to leave."

She starts to walk away and we all follow suit, the hallway less crowded now that almost everyone is gone. Riley nods as we enter the masses, having to form a single file line due to the width of the hall. Eventually we get outside. It's cold and overcast today, and I can feel light drizzle peppering my face as I step out.

"Well at least I have notes that are readable now." Stanley says, holding up the exercise he ventured in Riley's bag for. She probably already knows the material anyway so it's not much for her to give away notes.

"I wouldn't bet on it." Riley replies. "They look like they were written by a two year old." She shoots a glare down at the cast on her hand, obviously unhappy about her newly messy writing supplied by her left hand. Her usual notes are immaculately tidy and precise, so I can understand her frustration.

"It can't be that bad." Stanley protests. He opens the book while we're walking, narrowly avoiding a parked car we go past. "This actually looks like my writing." He says, smiling at the paper, seemingly happy he's found somebody that shares his writing techniques.

"Hmm..." Maren drawls, walking next to me. "Stanley's writing looks like that of a two year old. Coincidence?"

Stanley closes the book and fixes his eyes on Maren. "You know, just because we did better than you in the tournament doesn't mean you need to be bitter." He says smirking, obviously referring to the three points they got over the other team, as opposed to girl's team only winning by one.

Maren scoffs. "I'm not bitter about it. Both teams won, genius."

"Alright, shh." Riley puts her hand between the two when Stanley opens his mouth to retort. "Be at peace." She soothes. Maren just rolls her eyes but Stanley is back to smirking in a moment. I guess it doesn't take much to set him off, but it also doesn't take much to calm him down. We about to pass a really fancy motorcycle when Stanley cuts off from the group, shoving his arms through the sleeves of a leather jacket I didn't realize he was carrying until now.

"Well, this is where I depart." He sighs.

"Finally." Maren mutters. Stanley stops at the bike and starts unclipping a pouch on the side.

"That's yours?" I ask. I can't help but stop walking, gazing at the machine with a little bit of awe. Even behind Maren's irritation I can tell she's impressed too, even if she will never admit it.

"Oh yeah." He grins and rubs his hand over the handle bar appreciatively. I can see why he's so pleased with it, it's really a beautiful machine, sporty and obviously fast. Even the black paint on it looks sleek, it's edges still reflecting light despite the drizzly day.

He smoothly swings a leg over the seat, sliding his helmet on with ease once he's planted a foot on either side. "You know," he starts, tilting his head back while doing up the straps on his helmet, "I could take you for a spin if your interested." He finishes with the straps and tilts his head at me while my eyebrows shoot up in surprise at his proposition. It's a little tempting but that's all, the thought of flying down the road with only open air on either side of me overpowering my curiosity with fear.

"Thanks, but I think I'll pass." I say politely. He just shrugs. He probably didn't expect me to actually say yes anyway.

"If you're sure. I'm a safe driver by the way, just ask Riley." He nods at Riley, who's smile has faded a bit at the mention of herself. I can't see Maren's face right now, but judging by Riley's sheepish expression, she must be fixing her with the 'you did what?' look.

"Anyway, I'll be off. Nice seeing you ladies." He gives us a salute. "And, Maren. Always a pleasure, sweetheart." He winks at her before starting the bike and putting down his visor. Dark jeans, black leather jacket, and a shiny helmet, the definition of a cocky, attractive, rich kid. Yup, sounds about right.

"You rode on his bike?" Maren asks Riley when Stanley pulls out of the parking space. She raises her eyebrows at her and Riley starts to back away.

"I needed a ride one day... and yeah." She says cautiously. I laugh at her slow retreat and she smiles when she sees it, like somebody else laughing makes it okay for her to show her amusement. She still looks guilty though. In Maren's eyes, getting along with Stanley is more like fraternizing with the enemy. "Anyway, I really have to get to work, so..." she points behind her and turns to jog away.

"You could have gotten killed you know!" Maren calls after her.

"See you at five!" Riley replies, ignoring her comment. She sends a wave over her shoulder without looking back, heading toward her van.

Maren and I make our way to her car and soon we're in the lineup of people waiting to get off the parking lot. The traffic moves so slow that it could take up to fifteen minutes to get off the parking lot, probably more today since we got out later than usual. Up ahead I spot Stanley fitting his bike in the space beside the cars in the line, and riding right up to the intersection. I point him out to Maren, and even though it's kind of a dick move, I can't help but chuckle. She shakes her head.

"Asshole."

"Name calling isn't nice, _sweetheart_." I mock. She laughs sarcastically but without a smile, instead fixing me with a withering glare. I hold back my amused smile until she turns her stare back to the slow-moving traffic ahead of us.

"Marina," She says slowly. "How much do you value your life?"

 _-Page Break-_

I absentmindedly flip trough the channels on Maren's TV, not really interested in choosing a station, but feeling like I should be making the most of the power while it's still in service. As of now, the television is also serving as the only source of light in the room, emitting a soft fluorescent glow that hardly allows me to see anything other than the limited surroundings of the living room. The darkness is on account of Maren's orders. Nothing is permitted to impact her view of the lightning strikes that happen every few minutes, now getting more frequent as the storm presses on.

Maren sits on one of the kitchen chairs she's pulled into the room and positioned by the window so she can be as comfortable as possible while viewing the show, which just happens to be a naturally occurring weather phenomenon. I watch as her face and the entire room is suddenly illuminated by a bright flash, the lightening's doing. She looks peacefully intrigued as she looks out the window, arms folded, feet propped up on the windowsill, her eyes settled on the dark clouds formed overhead. I can only see her for a fraction of a second though, because then the light is gone as quickly as it came, and the limited glow from the television is all that's left. Heavy rain and dense fog is a commonality around here, though we hardly ever get to see actual lightning accompanied with the combination. I admit, the flashes of light make the situation a little cooler, but my infatuation with the weather is definitely not on the same level as Maren's.

Now bored with the TV, I turn it off, my eyes quickly adjusting to the sudden darkness. I can hear the rain hitting relentlessly off the side off the house, the strong winds the driving force behind the heavy sheets of water that I can see running down the window in wide streams. I pad out to the kitchen to grab my own chair before lifting it into the living room, putting it down next to Maren's seat, dropping down into it shortly after and assuming the same position as our resident storm chaser.

"I see you've come to the dark side." She greets dramatically, quirking a eyebrow at me.

"I figured you could use some company aside from wind and rain." I reply. Maren laughs and I smile, listening to the elements beat off the walls that separate us from the storm.

Another flash lights up the room, just as bright as the other ones. I can't actually see where the lightning hits the ground, which tells me it's either not very close or I'm just looking in the wrong direction, which is very possible. Since the window is on the side of Maren's house, we have a view into her neighbour's backyard, where there's a couple trees and bushes planted. The plants are hardly winning the fight against the wind, their leaves and branches swaying with dangerous force. I watch the bushes move in jerky motions in response to the wind and fear that some will have blown far away by tomorrow.

"How long do you think it'll be before the power goes out?" I ask. Maren keeps her eyes focused on the scene outside as she shrugs.

"Probably not long." She replies, seemingly unconcerned. "The real question is how long it'll be out for."

"Hopefully long enough to keep school from opening tomorrow."

"My thoughts exactly."

We settle into silence again, both of us content to watch the storm through the steady rivers of rainwater that cascade down the window. Suddenly there's banging at the door and I jump a little as I turn my head around the look at it. Maren unsurprisingly doesn't even bat an eye, realizing quicker than me that it's just Riley now getting off work.

"It's open!" She yells, loud enough to be heard over the howling outside.

The door opens for only a second before Riley jumps in and slams it shut again, breathing a little heavily, probably from just running in here. Even in the darkness I can see her hoodie is soaked through and her hair is dripping where the ends stick out around her face as a result of her hood being pulled up. Not that it's helping much, though she doesn't come further inside, the only move she makes is to put down the small bag that was slung on her shoulder.

"Hi?" I question when she just continues to stand there, twisting the toe of her sneaker into the mat. She gives me a short salute but doesn't respond otherwise.

"Can you lock the door, R? I don't want any creeps getting in." Maren says absentmindedly, not even noticing our friend's drenched state.

"I actually have something that you should see." Riley chuckles hesitantly. At this Maren actually turns around, smirking in amusement at the dripping mess that is our friend.

"Woah, did you go for a swim on the way here?" She teases, straying time away from her lightning watch to laugh at Riley's state.

"I need you to see something." She ignores Maren's comment, fingers running through her wet hair. "He's in the van." Maren raises her eyebrows while my look of confusion only strengthens.

"He?" Maren demands.

"Uh, yeah..." Riley looks toward the door briefly before turning back, crossing her arms as a helpless expression crosses her features. "I seem to have acquired a dog."

 _-Page Break-_

The gentle sound of a jingling collar follows the small creature as he trots around, sniffing at various items in the room before skipping off to his next adventure, tongue hanging out of his mouth in an adorable way. What is obviously a beagle has certainly wasted no time familiarizing himself with the living room, leaving tiny muddy paw prints on the hardwood in wake of his travels. He bounces around happily as we all stand by the doorway Riley just brought him in from, the same 'what the hell do we do now' look on our faces.

"How did you find him?" I ask.

"I was just on the way here and I saw him running down the side of he road so I pulled over and got out to get him." Riley replies. "He didn't make it easy either, I had to chase him around for a bit." As if just remembering that she's soaked, she pulls her hood down, revealing a stringy mess of hair. She rakes her fingers through it to straighten it out.

We turn our attention back to the dog as he trots around to the couch and starts sniffing around the perimeter. Maren's eyes narrow when he shakes, emitting a strong jingle from the tags on his collar as drops of water fly everywhere. Seemingly satisfied with the room, he trots over to where we're standing and sits down in front of us, tail sweeping back and fourth on the floor.

"His name is Bernie." Riley supplies.

At the sound of his name, the dog's ears perk and he closes his mouth for a moment, staring up her her with dark, expectant eyes. Riley melts immediately under the dogs gaze, smiling softly as she crouches down on the floor, holding out a hand. Bernie takes this as a welcoming sign and wastes no time before jumping up on her, his front paws stretched up to rest on her chest as he licks her face feverishly, obviously grateful for the hospitality. Maren wrinkles her nose.

"That's gross, you don't even know where he's been." She says, watching with disapproval and a little bit of disgust.

"Aw, don't say that. He's a sweetheart." Riley replies, seeming to speak directly to the dog instead of Maren. She picks him up -a little awkwardly because of the cast- obviously not caring about how wet he is, and leans him towards Maren. "Come on, look at his face!"

Bernie stretches out and tries to lick Maren too, but she swiftly steps away, making Riley chuckle. "Mom!" Maren calls while Riley turns towards me, bouncing the dog in her arms like you would to soothe a baby.

"Hey Bernie." I greet him, unable to help my smile as I reach out to scratch his head. He turns his head I chuckle at his cuteness when he licks my hand, quickly resuming his panting afterwards.

I hear footsteps and Katerina emerges from the dark hallway, squinting and in her pyjamas, probably just woken up from a nap. She mutters something about how dark it is and flips the light switch, immediately making all of us squint against the sudden brightness. Before my eyes have a chance to even adjust I hear her say, "What is that?".

"A beagle." Maren replies unhelpfully.

"Really?" Katerina rolls her eyes at her daughter. "Why is it here?" She looks at all three of us and Maren and I quickly turn our eyes toward Riley, who smiles guiltily, still holding the dog.

"I was on my way up and I saw him on the side of the road." She explains. Sympathy quickly dawns of Katerina's face, I assume for the dog. "When I picked him up I was almost here already so I just decide to bring him. I don't have a problem with bringing him home though, because I know it's a lot to ask-"

Katerina cuts Riley's sentence off with a wave of a hand, starting to walk over. "No, he can stay. I don't want you driving back in this weather. Plus..." she smiles and reaches her hand out to scratch his ears. "he's also pretty cute." She finishes, tilting her head and smiling at him.

Her hand goes down to his collar and she flips it over to read the tag. "Hmm, Bernie Kosar is it?" She asks the dog, as though he is going to answer. "We're gonna need to call his owners." She eyes his muddy paws and grimaces. "And get a towel."

After getting Bernie as clean and dry as we can, Katerina calls the number on his collar. We all wait as she keeps holding it up to her ear, eventually putting it down when nobody answers. "I guess he's staying with us until we can get ahold of someone." She shrugs and pushes herself off the couch, reaching over to feel Riley's hood, who's now sitting on the floor with Bernie in her lap. "God, your soaked, honey. Do you need some clothes?" Riley shakes her head and stands, bringing the dog with her.

"No, I actually have my pyjamas in my bag." She points to where her bag is resting on the floor in the porch, Bernie still in her arms. He's honestly a bit big to be carried around, and it seems like he's heavy too by the way Riley keeps shifting him around.

"Ahh, smart see?" Katerina taps the side of Riley's head with her index finger, Riley jokingly leans away from her hand with wide eyes of mock fear. Maren snorts.

"Not that smart. You thought to take a water proof bag but you didn't wear a rain coat?" She remarks, smirking when Riley rolls her eyes, the dog looking like dead-weight in her arms.

"Alright, lets not get into technicalities here." She defends, attempting to reposition Bernie again.

"That's right." Katerina chides Maren, who only shrugs. "Anyway, I'm going back to bed. Only wake me up if something life threatening is happening." She shuffles back down the hall, leaving the three of us in the living room.

Riley shifts Bernie in her arms once more before sighing. "Can somebody take him? My arms are killing me."

I put out my hands to take him but Maren points a stern finger at me. "Not on the couch." She warns. "Why do you need anyone to hold him anyway? I'm sure he can fend for himself for a bit."

Riley opens her mouth to reply when the rumbling sound of thunder stops her from defending the beagle, who starts to whine at the sound. "He gets scared." She sighs, starting to bounce Bernie a little as he lets a high, sharp bark out. She struggles to keep him up so I walk over and hold out my hands to take him. "Thank god." She sighs, gratefully depositing him in my arms before shaking out her own and going over to grab her bag. His fur is a still a little wet, but I don't mind. His whining has toned down now and I kiss his head.

"See? It's okay. Just a bit of thunder." I assure him. I find my voice sounding strangely high-pitched as I talk to him, but I can't help it. Maren arches an eyebrow at me as I start to circle the couch with him, bouncing him gently.

"You do realize he's a dog?"

"What's your point?"

"He can't understand you." She laughs a little.

"What? Did you hear that Bernie?" I ask him, my voice taken on that baby talk thing again. "She thinks you can't understand us." I shift him in my arms to see his dark eyes looking intently up at me. I smile at him involuntarily.

"You're cracked." Maren shakes her head, amused as I make my second lap around the couch, narrowly avoiding Riley as she tries the pull down her sleeve to get her sweater off. She can't quite manage with the casted hand and thrusts her arm toward Maren.

"Pull on that would you?"

Maren reaches out and holds the sleeve while Riley maneuvers her arm out of the sleeve. I shift Bernie in my arms, starting to understand the pain of holding him for so long. Riley finally manages to make progress with her sweater and pulls it over her head with some struggle, the soggy fabric not helping much with the process. She's only wearing a bra underneath but we're all past the point of caring about that stuff anyway.

"Careful, there's a man in the room." Maren teases. Riley laughs, leaning down and grabbing a large t-shirt out her bag.

"Sorry, Bernie. I didn't mean to defile you." She apologizes, pulling the shirt on. I tilt my head down to Bernie and pretend to listen.

"He says it's fine." I inform them. Riley laughs and Maren just shakes her head, though I think I see her smiling.

"Oh come on. How can you _not_ love him?" Riley asks her, pulling on a pair of pyjama pants that pool around her feet a little, but I know she likes them too long. I crouch down by the side of the couch Maren is on to get her and Bernie face to face.

"Look at his eyes." I say. The baby voice is back and I'm sure Maren doesn't appreciate it. She looks at him flatly.

"They're just eyes, Mar."

"They're eyes full of love!" Riley argues. Maren rolls her eyes and stands up off the couch, walking over to the light switch and flipping it off, the room casted in darkness once again.

"I don't care what emotion he has in his eyes." She chuckles. She walks over to the window and plops down in one of the seats positioned there. "Now, are we going to storm watch or what?"

 **Maren**

I stubbornly stare out the window in an attempt to ignore the pair of dark eyes gazing at me from Riley's lap. The beagle keeps looking at me, and it pissing me off. We've tried to leave Bernie alone, but every time he hears thunder or a particularly strong gust of wind, he starts whining and barking and has to be picked up again. Not that either Riley or Marina have any problem comforting him. He stares at me like I owe him something, wether that's a apology for refusing to immediately confess my love for him, or just because he hates me, I wouldn't know.

"Hey, do you have any pizza bites?" Riley asks suddenly, stroking Bernie absentmindedly. I grin.

"In the freezer." I answer. Marina sighs as Riley places the Bernie in her lap, but she's not agitated by the dog.

"Do you know how bad those are for you?" She asks.

"Oh, they're terrible." Riley agrees, already walking out to the kitchen. "But let me ask you this;" she stops at the archway to the kitchen and turns around with an arched eyebrow. "Would you rather have pizza bites when the power goes out, or have no pizza bites when the power goes out?"

Marina lets out a sigh but otherwise remains silent. Riley nods with a triumphant grin and disappears into the kitchen after turning on the light. "Do you want them quick, or do you want them good?" She calls, 'quick' meaning she'll cook them in the microwave, 'good' meaning she'll cook them in the oven.

"Quick, the power might go out pretty soon." I call back. I hear beeping and assume it's her typing in the time in the microwave.

Marina's mood quickly turns around as Bernie squirms around until he's on his back, looking the picture of content. She smiles as she rubs his belly. He nuzzles his head under her chin and I roll my eyes at her soft laugh. She catches the look and just laughs more.

"Shut up. He's cute." She defends.

"He's manipulative." I scoff. She raises her eyebrows at me, an amused smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. She looks like she's stifling another laugh.

"Did you just call a beagle manipulative?" She questions.

"Well, what do you call that?" I wave a hand over his sprawled out form. "He's basically got you two hired as slaves." Marina lets a laugh escape at my words.

"Right." She says sarcastically. "He's practically the mastermind of the century."

I shrug. "You said it, not me."

She rolls her eyes with an amused grin, shaking her head.

"Can somebody get some drinks from the cooler downstairs?" Riley calls from the kitchen. Marina looks at me and I shake my head.

"I still have a show to watch." I gesture to the storm outside and a flash of lightning lights up the sky, emphasizing my point. Marina sighs.

"I'm on it!" She calls before regretfully lifting Bernie up. "Sorry, buddy. I'll be back in a second." She says, laying him down on the ground, where he stands, probably confused that nobody reaches down to immediately pick him up again. Marina heads to the door of the stairs while I try to ignore the pair of dark eyes looking up at me. When the wind and rain don't distract me from it, I turn my stubborn gaze to the dog. He looks back silently.

"I don't care how much you look at me, I'm not picking you up." I tell him sternly, even crossing my arms for emphasis. He tilts his head slightly and I stare back with raised eyebrows of defiance.

Suddenly, a clap of thunder rumbles through the house, so strong I think I actually feel the house vibrate. I glare at the dog as he jumps. "Don't you dare-" I'm cut off by a high-pitched whining from him, long and mournful as his eyes dart around the room helplessly. He lets out a loud series of panicked barks. "Hey, shut up would you?" I order, aggravated as his yelps continue. "Jesus, just calm down."

My orders only result in louder whining and barking as he starts to shift around, looking for somewhere to go. I sigh angrily and look around me to make sure I'm alone before glaring at the dog. "I hate you." I mutter as I reach down and lift him up with a slight struggle. I try settle him where my legs and body meet in 'V' shape as a result of my feet being rested on the windowsill, but he won't stop moving around.

"Hey, give it up." I hiss as his paw digs into my side as a result of his squirming. I sigh and grab both of his front paws to keep them in place. It doesn't work and he keeps whining, even though the thunder is long gone. I sigh and roll my eyes at myself as decide on a new strategy. A gentler approach. I _need_ to get him to stop barking.

I swallow my pride before letting go of his paws. "Hey, it's okay." I say as softly as I can manage, which isn't saying much. I reach up with both hands to scratch his head, and he immediately gives into my touch, even closing his eyes as his whimpering stops. I smile in satisfaction. "Okay, _now_ you can get off..."

I go to grab him but trail off as he flops down on me, both paws on either side of my neck. He's bigger than I thought he was, but not too big that it's uncomfortable for me to hold him. He looks at me, head cocked to the side slightly. I notice with a start that warmth fills me as I look into his dark eyes, and I suddenly don't mind him looking at me. I shake my head to clear it.

"Alright, man. You really need to get off, okay?" I tell him, but my hands stay still at my sides and I don't make a move to push him off. He doesn't make a move to go either.

I notice that a surprising amount of heat radiates from him, warming me everywhere he is laying, which basically means my entire torso. He looks up at me with his dark eyes, intent and warm. Though I try desperately to keep my heart at a distance from him, I practically feel myself melting under his gaze, which doesn't happen easily. I sigh, reaching up to scratch the base of his ear and he leans into my hand.

"I hate you." I mutter as I feel a smile tug at the corner of my mouth. He doesn't seem offended and just rolls onto his side, tucking his head under my chin, letting out a contented sigh. To my demise, my smile grows. "Yeah, whatever." I try to sound annoyed by my voice comes out soft anyway, accompanied with a small laugh.

I can't believe it. I actually fell for the freaking dog.

"Oh my god." I hear Marina's voice behind me, tinged with a disbelieving laugh. I close my eyes as my stomach drops. "You guys totally just had a moment." I can picture the smug grin on her face so I don't turn around.

"I only picked him up because he was barking like crazy." I defend hastily. "Dude doesn't know when to shut it." I complain half-heartedly. The dog curled up in my arms probably doesn't make my statement very convincing.

"Right." Marina says doubtfully, starting to walk over. "Doesn't sound like he's barking now." She comes over and takes a seat next to me, reaching out to give Bernie a rub after putting the drinks down. He stays content in my arms.

"He was comfortable." I defend quietly. Marina laughs and shakes her head at my defence, putting her feet next to mine on the windowsill.

"God, you are _such_ a softy." She chuckles quietly. I give her death glare.

"I am not." I protest. She laughs again.

" _Yes_ you are." She insists. My glare hardens but she doesn't seem intimidated, fixing me with a knowing smirk. "You wouldn't even look at the dog when he first got here, but it only took you about fifteen seconds to fall in love with him as soon as you got some alone time."

"He wouldn't shut up, what did you expect me to do?" I question, hating myself as I feel heat rise to my cheeks as a result of her accusation. "And I'm _not_ in love with him." I scoff.

"Don't be embarrassed, Maren." Marina picks up on the blush right away, a teasing grin on her face that tells me she's enjoying my being uncomfortable. It's not something anyone sees often. "I think it's sweet that you care." She nudges my foot with her own and laughs when I close my eyes to avoid looking at her.

"I hate you." I mutter.

"Just like you hate Bernie?" She counters. I clench my jaw and look down at the relaxed form resting on me with a sigh.

"Shut up. He's cute."

I hear a couple high-pitched beeps from the microwave and a cheer from the kitchen, meaning the food must be done.

"Is it ready?" I yell. My voice being so loud must startle Bernie because his head shoots up when I yell. "Sorry." I mutter, gently pushing his head back down to its previous position. Marina smirks knowingly and I wrinkle my nose at her.

"Yup!" Comes the answer from the kitchen. Her footsteps sound lightly around the kitchen until I hear a clatter of dishes and what sounds like a muttered curse, but I know it's just Riley's clean version of profanity. Marina and I share a worried look.

"Are you okay?" Marina calls, turning around in her seat.

"Yeah, just burned myself a little but it's fine." Riley replies tightly after a short pause. The footsteps resume and a drawer opens, I assume she's getting a glove or something to carry the plate with. "Alright, now we're in business." She says triumphantly.

A strong gust of wind roars outside and a defined click sounds throughout the house not a second after. The bit of light that was being provided to the room by the kitchen shuts off, and the house is left in dark silence. The power has gone out. My eyes start to adjust to the sudden darkness almost immediately. Objects begin to take form in dark shadows, blurry at first but now taking on a more defined shape. Riley groans from the kitchen. According to her, her eyes don't adjust well to darkness, and since the cloud cover outside is absorbing any light projected by the moon, she's basically stranded out there.

"Do you need some help?" Marina calls. There's a pause.

"Nah, I got this." She calls back, not really projecting confidence.

Her footsteps are louder now and slower as she unsteadily makes her way out of the kitchen. I see a dark shape appear in the archway of the kitchen that I'm hoping is her. If it's not her in the doorway it would be like the climax of every horror movie ever.

"You're almost out of the kitchen now, just go forward." Marina guides her. Her eyes adjust so good in the dark it's almost scary so Riley doesn't hesitate before doing what she says. Riley follows her direction and successfully leaves the kitchen. "There you go you're almost here. Just keep walking."

"Just follow the sound of our melodic voices." I put in. Marina rolls her eyes and Riley laughs.

"I can see the window now so I don't think that will be necessary." Her footsteps get a bit quicker as she realizes she's almost made it. "Maren, are you holding Bernie?"

Before I can spew off my excuses again, there's a loud thump, followed by a yelp. Riley's dark shape stands by the table, emitting a high-pitched hum of pain as she quickly drops the plate she was carrying onto the table with a clatter. "Holy shi-" she cuts herself off, hopping away on one foot. "F-word, f-word, f-word, f-word..." She staggers around in the open space between the table and the TV, limping, obviously in pain. "God damn it, that freaking hurt!"

It might be a bit rude, but I can't help but laugh at her state. "Are you okay?" Marina tries to sound concerned but can't quite manage to keep the laugh out on her voice either.

"Yeah, I just broke my toe, freaking hilarious." Riley mutters, close enough now that I can see the glare she shoots us. It doesn't stop our laughing. She gives up on her bouncing around and sinks slowly to the floor, taking deep breaths. "I'm gonna need a minute."

"Don't take too long. I don't want the food getting cold." I tell her. She laughs bitterly.

"Next time you'll make your own stupid pizza bites." Apparently recovered, she gets to her feet and limps over to her seat after grabbing the food off the table.

"Broken thumb, burnt hand, and a stubbed toe all in one week." Marina lists the injuries on her hand, tilting her head with feigned wonder. "How have you survived this long?"

"I know." Riley sighs, leaning across me to offer the food to Marina, who takes a couple pieces. Riley laughs as Bernie lifts his head to keep track of the plate. "Watch out, they're still hot." She warns.

I take a couple pieces and ignore her, popping one in my mouth and immediately regretting it as I feel a sharp pain rushing over my tongue. I just shrug as though I feel nothing and I take a long breath in though my teeth to cool the food before swallowing it.

"And there go your tastebuds." Riley shakes her head while I try to ignore the dull sting now inside my mouth.

"I think it was the perfect temperature." I say stubbornly, though I refrain from eating the second one yet. Bernie sniffs at it in my hand and I shake my head. "It's not cooled down enough for you yet." I say. He drops his head on my chest again tiredly, as though losing the will to beg.

"Looks like someone's warmed up to him." Riley teases.

"Oh no," Marina jumps in, holding up a finger as though to correct her. "she only picked him up because he was barking, and now he's too comfortable to leave." Marina repeats my statement sarcastically, raising her eyebrows at me. I stare stubbornly out the window.

Riley shakes her head, amused. "Softy." She teases. Marina snorts as I press my lips together, agitated at both of them for saying the same thing. I lean my head back in the chair and groan.

"I am _not_ a softy."

 **John**

The house seems empty when I come back, defeated after two hours of rainy driving with no luck finding him. I pull down my hood and take off my jacket with a little more force than necessary, angry at myself. I throw it on the hook and kick off my shoes, shuffling into the living room and half expecting Bernie to trot over, tail waging, tongue lolling out of his mouth. The absence of a small-ish dog shouldn't make that much of a difference in a house this size, but the silence ringing in my ears is all too much of a reminder that he's not here. Instead he's out somewhere in the pouring rain and the wind, and judging by how few cars I passed on my search, his chances of being picked up aren't too good either.

I let him out as soon as I came home from school, knowing full well that the storm would scare him and he wouldn't go out anymore that night. I was on the phone with Dad when I heard a clap of thunder, basically the battle cry for the start of the storm. I opened to door and called out to him, before realizing he probably couldn't hear me over the strengthening wind, so I went outside to look for him. Instead, I found the gate to the backyard swinging in the wind, wide open. I made a mental note to fix it before I jumped in the car and began my frantic search, which I now know would yield no results.

I drop down on the couch, staring out the window dejectedly, where the expanse of the dark sky beyond the blowing grass is all I see. The dark isn't an ideal condition to look for a dog, but I tried for two hours once the sun went down, but deemed it pretty useless seeming I could barely see a few feet in front of the car with the rain and wind. If I could see at all I would be out all night until I found him. I reach over to switch on the lamp on the end table, but it stays dark. I try the switch a couple more times until I conclude that the power is out. Dad will probably be home in a bit since it's likely his work would have lost power as well. He'll come home to a house with one less member in it.

I shake my head and get up to look for a flashlight before heading out to the kitchen to make a sandwich or something to distract myself, even though it feels oddly comforting to beat myself up over it. I can only hope he'll find his way back before tomorrow. I'll just go hunting for him again if he doesn't. I go to take a couple slices of bread out of the bag on the counter, my eyes catch the light of the house phone in the corner, the battery still charged even after the power went out. The screen tells me that there are two missed calls on it. My heart jumps and I think of BK at once. Is it too much to hope that someone found him?

I snatch the phone from its holder and see that the calls were from the same person. I dial the number and wait anxiously. A woman picks up on the third ring.

"Hello?" She answers, sounding bored. Her voice sounds strangely familiar.

"Yeah, hi." Not my best start. "Uh, I got a couple missed calls from this number?" I rub the back of my neck absentmindedly, feeling awkward even over the phone.

"Oh, you're the dog guy." She answers, her voice mumbled, like she's chewing on something. My heart leaps and I let out a relieved breath.

"Do you have him? His name is Bernie Kosar." I ask a little too excitedly to sound normal.

"No, I don't have him. There was another loose dog with your number on it's collar." She replies flatly. "Yes, I have your dog." I would be shocked by this woman's bluntness if I wasn't so ecstatic about Bernie's safety.

"Thank you so much." I say earnestly, turning around and leaning against the counter with a relieved grin. "Where are you? I can come pick him up right now." I hurriedly push myself off the counter and stand upright, poised to leave.

"Are you serious?" The woman asks, disbelieving. Even though she can't see me, I frown in confusion.

"Why wouldn't I be serious?"

"Well, the storm is pretty bad right now. Are you actually going to drive in that?"

I look out the window at the dark shadows of trees blowing in the night, rain pouring down in sheets. A strike of lightning brightens the sky menacingly as if on cue with her words. I clear my throat.

"It's not too bad." I argue weakly, but determined to get my dog home as soon as possible.

She either hears my desperation, or doesn't want to argue because she tells me her address. I thank her again and hang up the phone, running out to the porch and leaving the two plain pieces of bread on the counter with the flashlight. I don't bother taking the jacket this time and just grab my keys before shooting out through the door.

The car is still warm from the end of my last search when I get in. Driving is terrible in this weather. The rain beats off the side of the vehicle, the sheets of water illuminated by the headlights and making it difficult to see past it. The wind howls so loud that I fear I may have a door left open, and it pushes against the car so strongly that I have to grip the steering wheel with two hands. I know Dad would not approve of me driving in this weather. Thankfully it's only about a three minute drive and there's nobody on the roads.

I pull into a subdivision about five minutes away from the school, the houses looking oddly familiar, much like the woman's voice. I slowly make my way through the roads and catch a street sign at the last minute due to the rain and darkness obscuring my vision. I turn down the street and search the houses for number 36. The even numbers are on the right, so I only look that way, turning off the radio as though it would help me see better. _30, 32, 34..._

House number 36 isn't very special at all, small and white with two windows on the front and a bridge leading up to the door, but I recognize it immediately, even in the rain. It explains my recognition with the woman's voice and her snarky tone on the phone. This is Maren's house. Maren Elizabeth has my dog.

I park on the driveway and have to use my shoulder to push my door open against the wind. The rain hits me just as powerfully and I grip onto the handle as I pull myself up the steps of the bridge, suddenly regretting my stupid choice to leave my jacket at home. I'm only wearing a t-shirt now, and it does nothing against the cold or the rain that's now soaking though my clothes and shoes. I hurriedly push the doorbell, my heart beating hard in my chest. Suddenly getting Bernie back isn't the only thing on my mind.

When I don't hear anything inside the house as a result of the wind, I consider ringing the doorbell again, but that seems needy so I just continue to stand with the rain beating off my steadily chilling body. After what seems like forever, but could only be a few seconds, I finally hear the click of a lock. I put my hands in my jean pockets, trying to look as presentable as possible, which turns out to be quite the challenge with the rain making me squint and the wind forcing my hair in all different directions.

The door opens and Maren stands there, looking bored for a second until she sees who it is. Her eyebrows shoot up and a smile briefly flickers across her face at the sight of me, which probably isn't very pretty at the moment. _She_ looks pretty, not in the conventional way that other girls look pretty, but 'Maren pretty'. A 'loose pony tail that looks like it's been worn all day, t-shirt that's far too big for her, a pair of grey jogging pants that pool around her feet' kind of pretty.

"I should have known you were the idiot who named a dog after a football player." She shoots me a teasing grin and I laugh sheepishly, the cold and the rain suddenly less noticeable.

Screw pretty, she looks beautiful.

"I guess I am." I reply, not really able to find anything else to say. She arches an eyebrow at me and I wonder why until I remember I'm still standing outside, the rain still coming down.

"Are you going to come in or what?" She questions.

"Oh, right." I reply stupidly, stepping inside. It smells like pizza and it's warm. She closes the door behind me and I hastily run a hand through my hair in an attempt to straighten it out. I should really take Maren's advice and get it cut.

"Oh, it's John." I turn to see Marina and Riley occupying two out of three seats by the window. The middle one is empty and I presume it belonged to Maren before she got up.

"Hey." I greet with a wave at them. At the sound of my voice, a furry shape stirs on Marina's lap. Bernie turns his head towards me and wags his tail once before laying back down, seeming to actually settle in more. Wow, so much for an exciting reunion.

"Damn, that was _ice_ cold." Riley chuckles while Marina shoots me a sheepish smile.

"I take it he's being treated well here." I say, shooting a pretend glare at my dog.

"He's practically royalty." Maren replies, crossing her arms and leaning her back against the wall to look at the beagle with a smile different then the others I've seen her wear. This one is softer, less hard edges and more natural. It's a little crooked too, like she's only half-amused, but her eyes say otherwise. I laugh a little at the expression, but quickly turn my attention back to my dog before she realizes.

"Alright, buddy. It's time to go home now." I pat my thigh. "Come on, Bernie." He looks up again, like he's considering the options before flopping down again like he did before. "Wow, I feel loved." I mutter.

Marina laughs and stands up, lifting Bernie with her, who looks relaxed as ever in her arms. "We were feeding him, if it's any consolation." She apologizes as she walks over. Riley trailing behind her. She crouches down and sets him on the floor when she's close, and only then does my dog seem the least bit interested in me.

I drop to a knee as he trots over and sigh as she jumps up on me, his paws on my chest. "You had me worried sick you know." I grumble, pressing my forehead against his as I scratch his head with both hands.

"Ohhhh..." Riley suddenly says slowly. "BK, Bernie Kosar." She shakes her head. "Guys, how did we not know it was his dog?"

"Well for all we knew, we thought his dog was literally named after two letters in the alphabet." Marina points out.

"Sorry about that, I should have clarified." I chuckle, still looking down at Bernie, who now decides to start licking my face. Maren makes an annoyed noise.

"Get a room." She jokes. I laugh and give him a quick kiss on the head before standing up, carrying him under one arm so he doesn't have a chance to run out when I open the door.

"Thanks again for taking care of him, maybe a little too well though." I direct the last part at Bernie. Marina chuckles and comes over to give him one last pat on the head.

"It was our pleasure." She says earnestly, smiling softly at Bernie as she backs away. I notice Riley looking at him the same way. Maren just looks at him with that same crooked smile.

"Oh god, he's got you all sucked in hasn't he?"

"Completely." Riley nods. I shake my head in amusement and tut at Bernie, who doesn't look the least bit guilty.

"Well, I'll go before he can break anymore hearts." I joke, backing towards the door.

"Are you sure you should be driving in that?" Maren asks, suddenly serious.

"It's short drive." I shrug. She doesn't seem convinced. "I'll be fine." I assure her. Her stormy eyes still look conflicted but she nods anyway, pushing herself off the wall to amble over.

"Alright, be safe then. And you," she leans down to Bernie and her smile grows. "don't run away on anymore stormy nights." She scolds gently.

I realize that I'm seeing a rare smile from her, one different then the confident, cocky one she usually throws around. As I look at the gentleness in her expression and the way only one side of her mouth tugs up, I become aware the softness in her smile is because she can't help it. After everything I've said to her, and all the times I've made a fool of myself in front of her, it's a dog that breaks through her tough exterior. I'm glad I at least got to see it once.

"Jeez, get a room." I tease, repeating what she said to be just a minute ago. She rolls her eyes but grins anyway, the soft expression gone, replaced with one of humour and confidence.

"Drive safe." She says when I have my hand on the doorknob.

"Will do." I reply, opening the door and feeling the cold rush in immediately.

"And wear a raincoat next time for gods sake." She scolds with a smile, giving me a gentle push out the door.

I laugh but nod, turning around and giving her a last wave when I feel the rain hit me. She smiles in the doorway for a second before closing it.

When Bernie is in the passenger seat and hooked up, I jump in the drivers seat and begin to drive home. "You shouldn't have run away, buddy." I scold him, pulling out onto the main road as I shake my head. I remember Maren's soft expression and I smile, reaching over to rub his head.

"But maybe I can forgive you just this once."

 **That's it for this chapter. Thanks for reading and let me know what you think in the reviews :)**


	14. Chapter 14

**Hey guys, time to go through the routine again where I apologize for posting chapters super late and then give excuses as to why this happened. I do actually have legitimate reasons though, one being I was out of town for three weeks and couldn't write, and the other including crazy studying for mid-terms.**

 **Like I say every chapter, thanks so much for the reviews and support even though I'm pretty terrible at updating. Y'all are honestly the best!**

 **Lots of Jix in this chapter but I promise that next chapter will be more Navrina and some Riley/Stanley since I got requests for both. I also got a request for a Joseph POV. I've never written that POV before but if that's something you guys want, I'll give it a try for sure! It a great idea and thanks to the person that suggested it :)**

 **Not going to go on for any longer. You guys are awesome and I hope you enjoy :)**

 **Maren**

"I can't believe I'm doing this." I mutter, the bag that holds my skates bouncing off my thigh with each step.

It's after school and we're currently on our way to go skating for two hours. Not for hockey. No, hockey would be much more preferable than the hell I know I will be put through in about seven minutes. And what happens in seven minutes? In seven minutes, a bus will arrive, full of elementary school children with skates and helmets, ready to circle around the ice clumsily for a couple of hours. In seven minutes, we will follow said children into the building. In seven minutes, the torture of keeping seventy-something kids in line will rest on the shoulders of six people, myself regretfully included.

"Hey, it might not be too bad." Marina tries, sighing. "It might even be fun."

I just send her a look, wordlessly communicating my disagreement with her proposal. She rolls her eyes and adjusts the bag on her shoulder that holds her skates, similar to the bags Riley and I are carrying, though her skates aren't hockey ones like ours. She was reluctant to do this but I'm happy she did. I haven't seen her skate in a long time.

"Well, we all need the volunteer hours so stop complaining." She gives up on her optimism quickly.

"Still doesn't mean I have to be happy about it." I mutter.

"Well, try."

We reach the doors and just wait outside. I lean against the wall of the building and Marina joins me after a moment, Riley standing in front of us. She picks at rocks with her shoes or just shifts her weight from one foot to the other, constantly moving. It's eleven degrees right now with a light wind, so it's a comfortable temperature as I stand here in my hoody and jeans.

Neither one us wants to be here, not even Marina I don't think. I'm here for one thing: volunteer hours. When John ever so politely reminded me of he fact I still need thirty, he also told me about this sheet he saw on the school bulletin board, advertising for students in our exact position. Students who have waited until their final year to begin the thirty hours needed to graduate. He's coming too since he's also in the same boat, but he must be running a bit late.

As if on cue with my thoughts, a black sedan turns into the gravel parking lot, two people sitting up front. The person in the passenger seat waves and I flip him off as I realize it's Stanley. Not my best move considering children could be arriving at any moment, but the gesture was a necessary action in my opinion.

John parks the car and they both get out, grabbing their bags out of the back before starting to walk over. "Ladies!" Stanley greets. The word seems to be his standard greeting now when approaching us. John just waves with a smile.

"Excited?" He asks when he gets closer, one hand in the pocket of his water proof joggers as he walks, the other secures the strap of the bag hanging off his shoulder.

"Overjoyed." I say flatly. He chuckles.

"Hey, Maren, are you sure you're up for this?" Stanley suddenly asks. He leans his shoulder into the wall next to Marina. He only wears a pair of khakis with a t-shirt, despite the fact that he'll be in cold temperatures for the duration of two hours. "I mean, I wouldn't think they'd let the mentally unwell chaperone kids." He finishes, a weak insult really. I guess it deserves a weak counter.

"I guess I should ask what your doing here then." I retort.

Before any real insults can be exchanged, I hear the rumbling of a bus, my ears attuned to the sound after many years of waiting outside for the vehicle in the early hours of the morning. We stop our bickering and watch as the school bus pulls into the parking lot, splashing up muddy water that sat in potholes on it's way in.

The bus stops and what must be a daycare worker steps off first, yelling for the kids to follow her in an orderly fashion. As if that would work. I watch as they pile out of the bus, some coming to stop, and some attempting a sprint directly for the rink before they're yelled at and coaxed to come back. They all talk excitedly and some of the kids actually initiate a game of tag, the councillors having absolutely no control.

Riley leans her back against the wall with the rest of us, next to John. "Anyone ever see 'The Hunger Games'?" She asks. John chuckles darkly.

"May the odds be ever in our favour."

I watch as the councillor suddenly throws her arm in the air, explaining that she'll start to count to three. Most of the kids stop what they're doing immediately, but others whine at her. Nonetheless, by the time she reaches three, all of the kids have calmed down with various degrees of cooperation. I shake my head subconsciously, remembering Mom trying the same move on me, probably having read it out of some parenting book or something. It never worked.

Once the group is quiet, the woman, along with a couple of other adults, start to lead the kids in this direction. We all push ourselves off the wall and wait for... I don't really know, but standing up straight seems like a good idea.

"Alright everyone, these guys are volunteers from the high school. They'll be helping you out today." She gestures to us, the kids looking around her to peer at us. Marina shifts, probably uncomfortable with all the eyes on us. Stanley just smirks.

"Sup." He nods his head at them and some laugh, others wave back, smiles on their faces.

"Okay, they're going to tell you their names now so listen _really_ close." The woman says, prompting Riley to start off to introduce herself. We go down the line introducing ourselves and when we're done she looks at the kids again. "Alright, we'll go in now, but make sure you stay on your best behaviours!" She has to yell at the last part of the sentence, most kids losing interest in her speech as soon as she said 'we'll go in now'.

We follow the kids in and soon we're standing in the girls' change room, surrounded by third graders unpacking their skates and struggling to get them on their feet. My bag still hangs on my shoulder and I can't find a place to sit, so I decide I'll just wait until they all finish. One of the daycare workers stands next me and I lean over.

"So, what do we do? Just stand here?" I ask her, confused.

"Don't worry, you'll be busy in a second."

I frown. "What do you-"

I'm interrupted by a girl calling her over. She smiles tightly and says, "Good luck." She goes over to the girl and suddenly there's shouting all around, apparently everyone needing help at the same time.

I take the woman's lead and start to make my way around, depositing my bag by the wall beforehand. Unfortunately, many of the girls have figure skates, which I'm not familiar with. I scout out the few girls with hockey skates and make my way around, lacing them up with practiced efficiency and quickly making my way to the next pair. Eventually I stand in the middle again, everyone with hockey skates taken care of that I can see.

"Do you mind helping me with my skates?"

I turn immediately at the polite call and nod, kneeling down and putting the girls foot between my legs before I can even think about it. Only when I grab the laces do I realize that it's a pair of figure skates in front of me. I'm could probably tie them, or I'm at least 70% sure I could do it. I'm just about to start an attempt when someone drops down next to me, starting on the girls skates next to me.

"Hey, how you holding up?" It's Riley, using an awkward looking method to lace up the skates due to her cast.

"Just peachy." I reply, starting an unsteady attempt at the laces. She laughs and glances over.

"Wanna switch?" She asks. I look over and realize she's holding a hockey skate between her legs. "I saw Marina tie up a few and I think I got it."

I nod and stand up while she scoots over to replace the spot I was just in. "Thanks."

"No problem."

She goes a bit slow due to her inexperience and the cast, but obviously knows more than me. I start in on the skate steadied between my knees, working through the lace quickly and moving onto the other one in the pair shortly after.

"Woah, you did that really fast." The little girl says in front of me. I look up, confused after being so engrossed in the constant action of tying laces. She has brown hair and wide brown eyes. She's also the only one to actually talk to me, other than the shy 'thank you' I got from most of the others. "The skates, you tied them really fast." She explains in response to my look of confusion.

"Oh." I say stupidly, going back to focusing on the skates. "Lots of practice."

"You play hockey?"

"Yup."

"For how long?"

"Since I was five."

"How old are you now?"

"Seventeen."

"So you've been playing for twelve years?"

I frown a little, not confident I would be able to do subtraction as fast as she did. "I guess." She pauses for a second and I think she might be done.

"Do you like it?" She asks.

"Yeah, it's alright."

"What's your jersey number?"

"Do you ever run out of questions?" I finish tying her skate with a hard yank and look up at the girl with an exasperated sigh, arching an eyebrow at her. She only giggles at my expression and despite myself, I let a small smile escape. "Six." I answer. She appears to think for only a second before her face lights up.

"Six times six is thirty-six, that's your number." She tells the girl next to her, who's currently struggling with her own skates. I don't think she wants to ask for help.

"Hey, I can help you-"

"I've got it." She interrupts. My eyebrows shoot up at her attitude and I bite my tongue to keep from responding with something possibly hurtful. She notices my look and mimics it effortlessly.

"Alright then." I reply, watching her slow movements and knowing she very much does not have it.

"Okie doke," Riley says in celebration. I look over at her. "One down, one to go." She enthusiastically high fives the girl she's working on, who smiles shyly, obviously not as talkative as the kid next to her, or at least not as curious.

I push myself up from my crouched position and nudge Riley with the toe of my shoe. "Slow poke."

She only laughs. "I think I'm doing pretty good for having a broken thumb." She defends.

I just shrug and notice the girl I was helping unclip a helmet from her bag, she puts it on and fiddles with the straps. I sigh loudly and kneel down in front of her again so I'm at her level.

"Making me crouch down again." I complain dramatically. She grins sheepishly and I tap her helmet lightly. "Head back."

She does as I ask and it doesn't take long for me to get her helmet done up, careful not to pull the strap too tight. "Thank you."

"That's what I'm here for." I say. Still kneeled down, I take another look at the dark haired girl next to her, who now has one skate tied up loosely. I know it won't be comfortable to skate in.

"Alright, this is stupid." I tell her, moving so I'm kneeled in front of her instead. She doesn't say anything, but shoots me a 'what do you want' look. I would know the expression, I use it often enough myself. "Give me your foot." I order.

"I can tie it up." She protests. I roll my eyes.

"No you can't, not yet anyway. Now come on." Instead of waiting for her to respond, I just grab her foot and stick it between my knees, untying her work.

"You're bossy." She says, slumping on the bench in disapproval.

"You're stubborn." I retort. She just huffs but doesn't argue further.

"How long have you been figure skating for?" Riley asks the girl in front of her, having a much better time making conversation with her girl. She unclips a helmet from her bag.

"Um, two years."

"Wow, I bet you're really good then." She smiles and puts the helmet on the girl's head gently, unsurprisingly a natural at dealing with kids, much like Marina. Both a smile and a blush appears on the girl's cheeks at the compliment, even visible through the cage on her helmet, and she shrugs. "You know, Marina figure skates too." Riley continues.

"Who's that?" She asks. Before Riley can answer, the brown haired girl speaks up.

"That one over there." She points to her on the other side of the room. "And that's Maren, and that's Riley." She points us out in turn. "And the two boys are John and Stanley."

My eyebrows shoot up. "Good memory." I comment, switching skates.

"Yeah, Terry is pretty much a human Wikipedia." The girl in front of me says. I let out a short laugh, partially because she already knows what Wikipedia is, and secondly because her little girl voice doesn't really accomplish the wit I think she aimed for.

"Anything I can do over here?" Marina's voice comes from behind me and I shake my head.

"Nope, we've got it covered." I answer.

"Riley said you're a really good skater." Terry tells her, head tilted to the side a bit, as though she's waiting for her to confirm it. Marina's face flushes slightly at the compliment.

"I'm not that good." She protests.

"Take a compliment, Mar." I say. She rolls her eyes at me. I finish tying the girl's skates and notice that all around us, kids are getting up from the benches and going out through the door, their gear all on and ready to get on the ice.

"Alright, I'm ready, bye." The girl I was working on suddenly jumps up but I stand and grab the hood of her sweater before she can get very far. "What?" She groans.

"Forgetting something?" I raise my eyebrows at her and she glances irritatedly at her helmet still resting on the bench. "Yeah, now come on." I order, picking up her helmet and holding it out, just above where her head would be if she were closer.

She walks back with a dramatic sigh and stops under the helmet with a bored look. I push the helmet onto her head with a little more force than necessary and drop to a knee so we're eye-level. I sigh heavily and easily mimic the look on her face, flat expression and bored eyes. It only takes a second of looking at her before a small, stubborn smile fights it's way onto her face. I raise my eyebrows at her, smug.

"Yeah, it looks stupid doesn't it?" I say.

"It looks stupider on you." She retorts.

"Ha, joke's on you. _Stupider_ isn't a word."

Despite being wrong, she grins anyway, almost wryly, if a third grader could even accomplish that. A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth as I put a hand on top of her helmet and pull her head back so I can get at the straps on her helmet. I do up the strap and tilt her head back down, shaking my head at her.

"Alright, now get out of my sight." I sigh, standing up. She grins and goes for the door, stopping when a councillor calls out to her.

"Miranda, manners please." She chides, helping another kid get their gloves on.

"Thank you, Maren." Miranda drawls, rolling her eyes.

When she leaves, I sit down on the now almost empty bench, finally able to get my skates on. The two other girls are finally ready and they thank Riley and I before heading out the door. Marina sits down next to me and Riley next to her, all of us getting our skates out.

"You're actually good with kids." Marina says, pulling a skate onto her foot. It's weird, I haven't seen her wear them in such a long time, though she doesn't waste a beat before lacing them up like it's still second nature.

I don't respond, just as surprised as she is that I didn't snap at any of them or get myself fired yet. Shrugging, I start to tie my own skates. I tie mine up quicker than Marina since I think figure skates a bit more work. I stand up and Riley does too as the last of the kids make their way out the change room

"Did those kids seem... weirdly familiar to you guys? Or was that just me?" Riley asks.

"It wasn't just you, I noticed it too." Marina says, still leaned over to tie her other skate. "I don't know why though, I mean, it's not like we would have come across them before." She shakes her head and gets up, balancing easily on her skates.

"I thought it was pretty obvious, that one Riley was with was exactly like you." I tell her. Her eyebrows furrow a little, probably trying to remember the little bit she saw of her.

"How?" She asks.

I sigh. "First of all; she figure skates, second; she was really quiet, and third; she turns red really easy. She's just like you." Riley nods along but Marina just rolls her eyes.

"Alright, I'm not that quiet anymore." She defends herself. "And I don't turn red easy."

"Whatever you say, Mar." Riley says, starting to walk towards the door, prompting Marina and I to follow. She holds the door open, smiling as we go through. "By the way, that was one hell of a kiss you and Joseph had in the hallway on Monday." She says innocently. Marina sighs as she walks past and by the time she's through the doorway, her cheeks are bright red, coaxing a laugh from us.

"Whatever." She says irritably. We all make our way down the side of the rink towards the door that leads to the ice. "Anyway, if that one was me, then that other one you were helping..." she trails off, stuck on the name.

"Miranda." Riley supplies.

"Yeah, she was exactly like you."

"No she wasn't." I argue. Riley laughs.

"I'm backing up Marina on this one. Did you even see her facial expressions? It had 'Maren' written all over it." She shrugs. "Well there's that, _and_ she was snarky smart-ass." She adds, a teasing smile on her face as she eyes me with a hint of caution. I raise my eyebrows threateningly at her and she nods, quickly retreating onto the other side of Marina so there's a body between the two of us as we continue walking.

"Fine, then that one, Terry, was definitely you. Had a guy's name and everything." I retort.

Marina snorts and Riley winces like she's been stung. "Damn, Maren. And I thought we were _friends_." She puts a hand over her heart, breaking into a laugh at my grin.

We get to the door leading to the ice and look out at the kids skating in sloppy circles on the ice. Stanley and John are already out there, passing around the walker things kids use to balance.

"So, just to be clear," Marina says, "are we saying that these three girls are somehow reincarnations of our younger selfs?"

I spot the three girls on the ice, all skating together in a group. Miranda is practically skating circles around the other two while Marina's doppelganger slows down to skate alongside Terry, who seems to be the least advanced out of them all.

"That's exactly what we're saying." I conclude.

"Or it's just a coincidence." Marina replies, also staring out the ice, head tilted to the side a bit.

"It's a freaky accurate coincidence then." I say. Nobody answers, all of us collectively agreeing to the statement without having to say anything. We just stand there for a second, looking out through the glass and having a silent 'questioning our existence' type of feeling.

"You know, I hate to interrupt... this." Riley says, the first of us to talk after our realization. "But we kind of have a job to do, so we should probably get out there."

Marina nods but I do nothing. Despite the strange fact that I actually turned out to be not bad with kids, I'm still less than bummed about having to skate around with them for another two hours.

I open the door and we head out, the ice feeling comforting under my feet but the group of mini bodies crowded into the space feeling much less familiar. They all talk at volumes louder than necessary and I hear a few screams, probably from someone falling, or just for the fun of it. I try to skate to where the the guys are, but find it near impossible to move in that direction without knocking a kid down. I subject myself to the slow current of bodies and follow along with the group, almost tripping over a couple of kids when they zip out in front of me. They don't even say sorry.

We finally get to he part of the ice where the guys are, and Stanley looks up from his duties, smirking as he slides an ice walker towards me. I catch it with one hand, pretending to not be affected by the force of the push, which actually almost made me slide back. I raise my eyebrows at him and he shrugs.

"Thought you might need one." He says. I give the walker a push back in his direction, skating forward.

"I think somebody who _isn't_ a hockey team captain might need it more."

His smirk fades a bit as he catches the walker, but it still doesn't completely go away, which is the most aggravating out of everything.

"So," John says, easing the tension. "This is quite the turnout."

"Well, it is a required field trip." Marina points out, somehow sounding kind even as she corrects him. John only laughs, and Stanley arches an eyebrow. At first I think he's surprised by her comment, but then I notice him eyeing her skates.

"So, fancy skates, gonna do some tricks for us? A few spins? Maybe a flip?" He smirks arrogantly, putting his hand on the edge of the wall and leaning his body into it. Marina seems momentarily at a loss of what to say, but then she shrugs.

"I'll do a spin when you do a flip." She says.

I grin, and John and Riley laugh. Stanley's eyebrows shoot up, but a grin is quick to make its way across his face too, pleasantly surprised with her retort.

"I was not expecting that." He admits through a chuckle. "Alright, princess. You've got my respect."

"Thank God, what would anyone do without your respect." Riley says sarcastically. There are a few laughs again and Stanley puts his hands in the air, seemingly offended.

"Jesus, I say _one_ thing and suddenly I'm attacked."

"Well it's not like you're undeserving of ridicule." John reasons. Stanley sighs and scowls, running a hand through his hair, which is way too shaggy. At least he actually had enough sense to put on a hoodie after. It must have been in his bag.

"Okay, I know when to admit defeat. But just for the record, four against one is not cool." He shakes his head and crosses his arms. John cheers in victory but Riley is the only one who joins him. Stanley rolls his eyes. "What are we supposed to be doing anyway, just standing around?"

Now finished distributing the walkers, John closes the door the supply was coming from. "I don't know. Probably just skate around and see if anyone needs help."

Stanley scoffs. "They're in third grade, they shouldn't need any help."

"Yes, because I'm sure you had every level of independence when you were eight." I say, rolling my eyes. For once, he doesn't say anything and just wrinkles his nose.

"Yeah, we should probably do something." Riley agrees, looking around. "Considering the amount of kids here, I'd say the best option would be to divide and conquer."

"Uh no, that's what they do in horror movies and someone always gets killed." Stanley says, shaking his head. His statement is followed by silence. He shrugs. "Hey, just sayin."

John closes his eyes tiredly. I don't want to imagine how much of this he puts up with in a day. "Yeah, we'll do that. Divide and conquer, good idea." He ignores Stanley's comments and nods, starting to back up. "See you all on the other side."

And with that inspiring remark, we all go our separate ways.

- _Page Break-_

"How long do we have left?" John opens the door and steps into the box I've decided to reside in for brief period of time. I came in here to take a break a little while ago, and apparently he's deemed it necessary to take the same action. He sits down of the bench next to me, leaning forward so he rests his elbows on his knees, hands clasped together in front of him.

"Why'd you ask me? The clock is up there." I point to the scoreboard where the amount of time we have left here is displayed.

"Well I figured if anyone was going to count down the minutes we have left, it would be you." He points out, smiling. It's true, I've been looking at the clock almost twice per minute since I've been here.

"An hour." I answer.

"See? I knew you would know."

I don't answer, and just look out at the ice. The kids continue to move in the same direction at various speeds, though I see a few rowdy kids racing each other down the middle of the rink, causing a few others to swiftly move out of the way. Marina is at the other end of the rink, kneeling down next to a girl who's sitting on the ice. I assume she fell. Stanley is leaning on the wall of the rink, talking to a group of kids and seemingly happy to be the coolest one in a room of third graders.

"How long have you been in here?" John asks.

"Long enough to potentially get fired."

"I don't think volunteers can be fired."

"Well, that's a shame." I sigh, looking out at the ice again as John laughs. Despite being here for a little over five minutes now, I don't move to leave, not really up for fully immersing myself in the sea of rookie skaters again just yet.

"Cold?" John eyes my hands, which are hidden by the sleeves of my hoodie I've pulled down to cover them, an attempt to draw in some warmth. I shake my head.

"Just my hands."

"Oh, here." He holds out his hands and I raise an eyebrow. He chuckles. "Give me your hand."

"You're not even wearing any gloves. How can your hands be any warmer than mine?" I argue, but put mine in his anyway. He brings his other hand down so mine is cupped between his two. My eyebrows shoot up. "Oh my God, are you made of fire of or something?"

It shouldn't even be possible for hands to pump out this much warmth, but sure enough, I can feel the cold that settled in my fingers being chased out by the heat of his own. His hands are smooth in some places and calloused in others, probably from holding a hockey stick for the majority of his life. He starts to rub them back and forth over mine, creating friction.

He smiles, almost shyly, and I notice a light shade of pink on his cheeks, but that could be from the temperature. "Not fire, just very good blood circulation." He explains.

I roll my eyes. "Thank you, Mr. Biology."

John chuckles. "Well it wouldn't be very logical to have fire for blood, now would it?"

"It would be cooler."

"It would also be biologically impossible, but as long as it's cooler I guess it's fine." He says sarcastically.

I laugh shortly and pull my hand from his, sticking out the other one quickly. "Come on, your job isn't over yet." I prompt.

"Oh." He says, seemingly miffed. "Is that all I am to you now? A personal heater?" He shakes his head with mock offence, but reaches for my hand with an easy smile.

"No, but it _is_ a plus." I admit. He starts rubbing my hand between his again, a little faster than the first, apparently deeming this one of more serious condition. His smile turns teasing, but his blue eyes are still kind, as usual.

"You know, a normal person would just wear gloves." He says.

"A normal person wouldn't have two furnaces for hands." I retort.

He chuckles again and glances down at our joined hands for a second before looking back out at the ice. I feel like talking to him shouldn't be this comfortable. I've only known him for a little more than a month now, but already I'm talking and joking with him like we've been friends for years. Maybe that's just how he is, the kind of guy people just warm up to. He definitely looks the part, with his kind eyes and friendly smiles that make you feel like you could tell him anything, and you probably could. Even sitting here in silence with his two hands covering mine isn't awkward at all, it just feels...

"So, having any trouble with the kids?" He gets us back on track with the conversation, thankfully since I don't want to know where my thoughts would have wandered if they had been left any longer.

I shrug. "None have run away screaming yet so I'd say I'm doing pretty good. You?"

"They keep asking me to race them." He complains, shaking his head.

"And you won't?" I arch an eyebrow. "Why not? Afraid to crush their dreams or just afraid that they'll win?" I tease. He raises his eyebrows at me, apparently offended.

"Neither." He scoffs, sitting up a little straighter as though to achieve a more regal aura. "My level of prestige is simply too high to engage in such childish activities."

"Oh yeah?" I challenge. "What _level of prestige_ did you possess when you took a treadmill to the face because you, _literally_ , couldn't stand to lose?

His mouth drops open for a moment, like he's going to try to defend himself, but then he closes it again, shaking his head. I feel a smug grin making it's way across my face and when he sees it he glares jokingly.

"Technically, it was a tie." He defends weakly.

"Yeah, I could tell by the way your spine hit the elliptical."

He clenches his jaw and I can't help my laugh. He grins too then, and I feel warm as I look in his eyes, which shine with amusement, making the deep blue seem brighter. He looks at the ice and I quickly look away too, though I'm not sure why. My eyes find the clock, where it now shows that I've been sitting here for a total of ten minutes. I can't really find it on me to care.

Across the ice I see a girl making a break up the ice, doing a pretty good job weaving between the traffic going in the same direction. That is until she come across a boy with an ice walker. She attempts to make the turn too tight and her skate gets hooked on the walker, causing her to go sprawling across the ice while effectively dismantling the device from the boy's hands. He goes down too.

Beside me, John sucks in a breath through his teeth, as though he felt their pain. "Ouch." He comments, wincing. He glances at me and shakes his head at my amused smile, quickly realizing I found the accident more funny than concerning. "She could be hurt." He chides.

"Oh come on, she's fine. See?" I gesture to where she's now getting up from the ice, sliding the walker back to the boy who hasn't yet made an effort to get up. "Plus, I think it's her pride that's hurting." I add, recognizing the girl as Miranda, the one I helped in the change room. If her and I are as alike as my two friends seem to think, I know that the only thing the fall would have bruised is her ego.

"And how would you know? Experience?" John teases.

"I'll have you know that I was a much better skater than that when I was eight."

"You must have had an amazing teacher then."

I shrug. "I think I did pretty good."

John's eyebrows shoot up. "You taught yourself to skate?" He asks, laughing when I nod. "What? You couldn't trust anyone to teach you right?"

I roll my eyes a little, though I'm surprised by how much he's come to know me in such a short period of time. Am I really that transparent? "No. Mom can't skate and I wanted to play hockey so she kind of just threw me out on the ice and I learned by myself." I shrug. I wasn't completely alone though, if you count mom watching from the sidelines. John nods but I notice the way his eyebrows pinch together slightly and the almost slanted set to his mouth, the way his eyes dart towards me for only a second. It's a quick expression, but I recognize it as what happens when he's trying to decide if he should say something or not.

"What about your Dad?" John decides to say what he's thinking, most of his debating expression washing away, though a hint of cautiousness remains. "He couldn't teach you?"

I can feel my expression go flat at the topic of conversation, whatever trace of a smile that was left quickly morphing into a clenched jaw of annoyance. The expression isn't because of the question though, it's because of the man associated with it. "Yeah, he wasn't really an option." I say, trying to sound as indifferent as possible so John doesn't fear for my mental stability.

If John is surprised, he quickly masks it, only giving a shrug as his features form a neutral look. "Cool."

His response, the casual way he says it is almost laughable. Like I didn't just admit a huge thing about myself, or open up a doorway to a boatload of potential questions. He just sits there, his eyes still kind, and a smile still hinting at his lips, completely normal. I realize that he gets me, he gets that I don't want his sympathy or questions or comfort. I'm not usually an open book but he seems to understand better than most how I like to deal with things, and he just accepts it.

"So it's just been you and your Mom?" He asks, steering away slightly from the previous topic, more than aware I'm not in the mood to be answering questions about it.

"Pretty much." I reply. "Well, except for this guy she dated for a few years, but..." I trail off, not really liking this topic either and also not really certain why I decided to bring it up in the first place. "He wasn't a good guy." I finish.

John presses his lips together for a moment, shaking his head. "Wow, the men in your life haven't had great track records, have they?" He chuckles, though I can tell he's far from amused by the way only one corner of his mouth lifts up into a small smile, and the way his eyes are now focused on away, like his mind is elsewhere.

"Considering one went MIA seventeen years ago and the other is in prison, I would have to say no." I smile wryly, vaguely aware that this type of conversation should not be a joking matter, though I'm unable to stop the sarcastic remark. It's like a reflex.

"Prison?" John asks, finally fixing his eyes back on me. Sometimes I wish he wouldn't do that. Looking in his eyes makes it harder to focus on filtering the words coming out of my mouth. "Mind of I ask why?"

"Impaired driving." I say. It's at least one of the reasons anyway, the other being information that only a select few people know, and I'm not eager to expand the circle.

"Well, that only confirms my suspicions." John says. I raise my eyebrows expectantly, waiting for his answer. "He's an asshole." He finishes. I can't stop a short laugh at that.

"I told you he went to prison but you had to hear _another_ fact to conclude that he's an ass?" I roll my eyes, although feeling better now that the atmosphere of the conversation is turning more into what it was when he sat down.

"Hey, some people go to jail for good reasons." John defends.

"I'm beginning to think you don't understand the concept of jail." I say, arching an eyebrow. John rolls his eyes with a dramatic sigh, though I can tell he's not really exasperated.

"Is it possible for you to _not_ be a smart ass? Just for a minute?" He raises his eyebrows at me, as though he's giving me a warning. I shoot back the expression and he takes my silence as a sign to proceed, now smiling a bit. "I'm talking about the honourable crimes, like Robin Hood or something." He continues. "You know, like helping out the people who actually need it-"

"Even though it's kind of illegal?" I finish for him. "Yeah, John, I know what Robin Hood is about. And I'm absolutely sure that somewhere, some guy with a feathered hat and a bow and arrow is sitting in a prison cell just waiting to share his story."

John scoffs. "Alright, that's ridiculous." He shakes his head, apparently unamused with my remark. Letting out a short sigh, he turns to me again, completely serious. "People can't even have _bows_ in prison, much less arrows." He shakes his head again, as though he's disgusted at me for even implying it's possible. I can't keep in my laugh.

It only takes a second for his stoic expression to break too, his grin quickly lighting up his eyes and causing something in my stomach to twist, though it's not a bad feeling. I'm suddenly hyper-aware of his hands still over mine, still radiating a steady stream of heat even though mine have long since been warm. And have I seriously had my hand in his for all this time and _forgot_? I'm not sure why I haven't taken mine away yet, but I know I should. I should want to pull my hand away, but I don't, not even a little bit. It's only the logical side of me that causes me to pull my hand from his. The same logical side of me that tells me that my hand has already been here for far too long, heating reasons or not.

"Thank you for that." I say, covering my other hand with the warm one to heat it up again. I don't really know what else to say honestly.

"Anytime." He replies. Suddenly at a loss of what to do with myself, I find my eyes darting toward the clock, where it now shows that I've been here for fourteen minutes, which I'm pretty sure is in the disciplinary range for taking breaks.

"Okay, if stay here for any longer I think I actually will get fired." I say regretfully. John laughs and I stand up, dusting off my pants, though I'm almost certain nothing has accumulated on them during the fifteen minutes I've been sitting here.

"Well, I'm coming too." He decides, getting up as I start towards the door.

"What happened to dividing and conquering?" I ask. I look behind me and he shrugs.

"Division was getting boring." He says. I open the door and step onto the ice, gliding away from the box. It's not long before John joins me at my side, easily keeping up with the slow current of kids we're sliding along in. His smile is familiar. "I think adding is much better."

I smile too and find that I couldn't agree more.

 **Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Definitely some Navrina coming up in the next chapter, so hopefully I'll be able to get that up soon. Anyway, thanks again and leave a review if you feel like it :)**


	15. Chapter 15

**Hey guys, it's been a while _again_. And again, I'm sorry. Not gonna go into anything long because I do that too often, but as always, thank you for all your support, y'all are amazing!**

 **Anyway, some Navrina in this chapter for you guys and also some Riley and Stanley in the second part. Thanks for sticking with this story, you are all awesome :)**

 **Read on and I hope you enjoy!**

 **Joseph**

"There is really nothing to worry about." I assure Marina as we both get out of the car. I look across the roof of the vehicle to witness the girl worriedly looking up at the blue siding like she'll have to take a test on it later. Before today, I had no idea meeting somebody's parents could be so stressful, but Marina has effectively proved me otherwise.

"I know." She replies.

I chuckle. "No you don't."

She lets out a breath, like a sigh, probably a little irritated that I guessed her anxiousness. I walk around the back of the car, noting the sun's late position in the sky. It's nearly six o clock and almost dark. Tonight is also Halloween, so I know the kids will start to make their rounds soon. In hindsight, it probably wasn't a good idea to hold dinner on a night full of ringing doorbells and interruptions, but according to Mom, I've already been seeing Marina for far too long without introducing her. Ella is staying at a friends house tonight, so she had some time to spare. I'll roll with it.

I walk towards Marina as she tucks an invisible strand of hair behind her ear, quickly touching the top of her head, where the start of her tidy, but thick, french braid commences. I come up behind her and place my hands on her shoulders, careful not to startle her.

"You look radiant, Your Majesty." I assure her earnestly, lightly squeezing her shoulders. The comment would usually make her blush, but she must be too nervous for that right now, because her face is just it's natural dark-ish shade when she turns around.

"Is there anything I should know before we go in?" She asks, taking a couple of slow steps backwards towards the walkway leading to the door. "Brothers or sisters? Topics I shouldt mention? Topics I _shouldn't_ \- Wait, do you guys say grace?" Her questions come out in a little bit of rush, and I have to replay the conversation in my mind for a second before I answer.

"No. None that I know of. And no." I tilt my head slightly. "Do you say grace at your house?"

Marina shrugs. "When we eat together. Why?"

"Just for future reference."

The comment only gets a small, albeit beautiful, smile out of her before she turns around and keeps walking. I can see why she's not too hopeful when it comes to including me in family matters. Hell, I'm not even sure I'm allowed back in the house after my brilliant first impression. If the glare I got from the woman is enough to go on (and I think it is), I'll have to preform a miracle for Marina's Mother to tolerate me. At least Ella already likes me.

"Oh, there actually is something you should know." I speak up from behind her. She looks at me over her shoulder and stops where the walkways curves toward the door so I can pass her. "I'm adopted."

Her pause is barely even audible, and I probably wouldn't have heard it if I wasn't listening for a reaction. "Okay, yeah that is a good thing to know."

I nod and pull my keys out of my pocket. It occurs to me that I probably should have mentioned this earlier, but it never came up. Oh well, I'm sure she would have put two and two together anyway when she saw my two parents, who are both very caucasian.

"Where were you adopted from?" Marina asks, and I realize her pause was on account of my possible insecurities with the admission. "If you don't mind me asking of course." She adds quickly.

"India." I say, pushing my key into the lock. "But I'm pretty sure one of my parents was white." I tell her the information easily. I'm not sensitive about the topic and don't resent my birth parents for giving me up. I just feel lucky to end up where I did, and that's really all there is to it.

I unlock the door and motion for Marina to go in first, which she doesn't seem particularly confident about. We end up in the porch at the end of two sets of stairs; one going up and one going down, that meet right here. I don't even have the chance to take off my shoes before my mother appears at the top of the steps, hands clasped together in front of an apron. My mother is a small, and slightly round woman, only standing about five feet and five inches off the ground. She's a very excitable person to say the least, as I'm sure Marina has already picked up on by her wide grin. Marina smiles back politely but it definitely comes nowhere near my mother's enthusiasm, which is almost impossible to match anyway.

"Marina, this is Mom. Mom, this is Marina." I gesture between the two women, but Mom just dismisses my introduction with a wave of her hand.

"I am more than capable of introducing myself, Joseph." She chides. I put my hands up in surrender and work on taking off my shoes as she starts to descend the stairs. I hop over to the side to make room, as the porch is only small and can hardly accommodate three people. It only occurs to me that I shouldn't have left Marina alone when it's too late.

"Hi, Marina. I'm Donna, it's so lovely to finally meet you!" She steps off the last stair, already opening her arms for a hug. Marina responds quickly for someone who I'm pretty sure was expecting a handshake, her only surprise showing through briefly raised eyebrows before Mom pulls her into an embrace.

"It's great to meet you too." Marina replies, smiling genuinely like she was expecting this forwardness, even though I know she wasn't. It may have been wise to warn her.

Suddenly, my mother pulls back but doesn't let Marina go yet. She keeps her hands on my girlfriend's shoulders and holds her at arms length, smiling fondly like she's an old friend. Mom sighs contently. "Wow, just beautiful."

I stifle a laugh at my mother's behaviour and lower my head so neither of them can see my hardly contained grin. Marina feels uncomfortable when _I_ say that to her, let alone a middle aged woman she's just met. "Um, thank you." Marina's response is probably the best anyone could come up with considering the circumstances.

Mom looks at Marina for another second before nodding, like she's affirming her earlier statement. She pats her shoulders and then turns to go back up the steps, explaining that the food will burn if she leaves it for any longer. Marina focuses on taking her shoes off when Mom gets out of sight, though ducking her head doesn't block my view from the red I see entering her cheeks, most likely in response to Mom's latest comment. She finishes with her shoes and looks at me leaned up against the wall, not being able to keep the amusement off my face.

"I think that went well." I say.

"Yup." She agrees quickly, but also looking like she doesn't know what else to say. I wouldn't say she knows what to make of my mother. Marina runs a hand over her hair. If I were to take a guess, I would assume the action is less about checking the state of her hair, and more about finding something to do with her hands. She looks at me again and her hand drops when she sees my widening grin.

"What?"

I shake my head. "Oh nothing, it's just..." I gesture around her face, indicating her blush. She turns around before I can see her roll her eyes, but I'm sure she did it.

"Yeah, I know." She starts up the steps and a follow close behind her, knowing she may need directions at the top.

"Don't worry, it's cute." I tease.

"That's comforting." She replies dryly. I laugh and direct her left at the top of the stairs, into the living room.

We don't even have a chance to sit on the couch before Dad makes his way into the room, acting like he didn't know we were here. In actuality, there's a likely chance that he was just waiting patiently for the right time to make a 'casual' entrance.

"Marina, is it?" He asks, shaking her hand. "I'm Reynolds, nice to meet you."

Marina has that genuine smile on again as she replies, "You too."

Dad doesn't study her the same way Mom did, or at least not as obviously, which I'm glad about. "Well, dinner will be ready in a minute. Hope you like mac and cheese." He says.

"Sounds perfect."

Dad grins at Marina's quick compliance and pats me on the shoulder as he heads to the kitchen. "She's out of your league, Joey." He chuckles, winking before disappearing around the archway of the kitchen.

Marina seems slightly amused by the nickname, although looking a little lost while standing in the middle of the living room. I guide her to a couch and we take a position on either side of the small sofa, still only about a foot away from each other. I would put an arm around her if we were alone, but being really close to one another kind of feels weird with my parents just in the next room.

I raise an eyebrow as Dad comes back out of the kitchen almost immediately after he went in. "Back so soon?"

"So it seems." He takes a seat in the recliner in the corner, balancing his elbows on his knees. "I've been sent to, uh, entertain I think." He shrugs, making it obvious that it wasn't his idea. I know he's interested in getting to know Marina, but usually it's Mom pressing the questions. "So, I trust he's treating you well?" He asks Marina after a short pause. _Really, Dad?_

Marina laughs a little, a smooth, mature sound. "I have to say, he is quite the gentleman." She says. My eyebrows shoot up and I feel a stupid grin on my face. A gentleman.

"Hmm, high praise." Dad says, noting my pride. "Has he opened doors for you?"

"Yes."

He raises an eyebrow. "Even the car door?"

Marina gives another chuckle. "Yes."

"Has he paid for your meals?"

"Every single one." She replies, shooting me a quick glance of playful annoyance.

"Has he brought you flowers on any occasion?"

"Yes."

"Has he dressed appropriately for said occasions?"

"In my opinion, yes."

"Ah, very good." My Dad's grin mirrors mine, the same pride in it upon hearing I've been doing what he taught me to.

Dad continues to make small talk with her. Nothing too personal, but enough to keep the conversation going. Marina seems to be a natural, with her mature responses and kind smile. I think she's just the type of person that can win anyone over in an instant, I would know first hand.

Eventually, Mom calls us out to the kitchen for supper. I naturally direct Marina to the seat next to mine, our meals already on the plates set around the table. Mom sits across from me and Dad sits next to her, across from Marina. I'm thankful he's at least serving as a slight buffer between Mom's enthusiasm and the shy girl next to me.

"I was hoping to make something a little more extravagant tonight, but by the time Joseph let me know you were coming, this is all that I could whip up in time." Mom says apologetically, briefly wiping her hands on her apron before pulling her seat closer to the table.

"Well, the most extravagant mac and cheese I've ever had has been out of a box, so consider me impressed." Marina assures lightly. Mom's appreciative grin is evidence enough that it was the right thing to say.

"Oh, I like her." She chirps to me, then looks at Marina again. "I like you."

"I'm sure she's picked up on that." Dad comments, already starting in on his meal. I try to keep a straight face but know I failed when my Mother shoots a hard look in my direction.

"So Marina," my Mother turns her attention back to the girl beside me, grinning again like she wasn't interrupted, "what do you like to do?"

And it seems we've reached the first of many poorly narrowed questions of the evening. It's a pretty hard question to answer really. Hell, when I asked Marina this question, she just told me she was boring.

"I spend a lot of my time doing homework or taking care of sister, so I don't do much really." Marina answers with a small laugh. I suddenly feel very lucky to incorporated into that schedule. Marina must feel like the conversation needs something to build on because she adds, "But I used to skate a lot."

"Figure skate?" Mom asks, seemingly astonished. "Oh wow, isn't that spectacular."

Marina seems only a little surprised at Mom's enthusiasm for the topic, masking it with a polite smile, which I think holds a little amusement.

"Marina actually taught me to skate." I say. I had hoped to direct some of the attention away from Marina, but it seems that it backfired when Mom's eyebrows shoot up in peeked interest.

"I hope he was a good student." She says.

"Oh yeah, he was good. My qualifications as a teacher are questionable though." Marina jokes. The comment earns a laugh from Mom and a brief chuckle from Dad.

"So, he knows how to skate now?" He asks.

"Well..." she glances at me. "Not exactly. But he's getting there."

"Good to know he's getting _somewhere_." Dad jokes. Mom swats his arm with a tut before going back to the conversation with her previous enthusiasm, folding her hands over her untouched food. I look at Dad and raise my eyebrows smugly at Mom coming to my defence. He sticks his tongue out at me.

"So, Joey told us you tutored him in french too." Mom continues. "Are you fluent?"

"Oh, no. Far from it, but I would like to be someday." Marina replies, skillfully steering away from the topic of my cluelessness of the language.

"Speaking of someday..." Mom starts, finally picking up some food with her fork, though she doesn't eat it yet. "Do you have any idea of what you want to do in the future?"

And there it is, the pressure question of the evening. I knew it would come out at some point, I just didn't think it would be before Mom even ate any of her food.

"I'm not really sure yet, but I have applied online to the university here for general education courses." Marina answers.

"Didn't you say you were considering med school?" I ask, hoping to help her out in the conversation. Her smile fades a little and she shrugs.

"Well, I don't know about that. Med school is pretty expensive, Joseph." She chuckles through the sentence so her disappointment is hardly audible, but I hear it. I don't really know what to say to it. There's no disputing that med school isn't cheap.

"Oh, there's lots of options, honey." Mom jumps in, always the optimist. "There are scholarships available for academics, and even other ones that most people don't even think to apply for. Student loans are always an option as well, and I'm sure your parents have some money saved up too." She finishes and finally puts a piece of food in her mouth, though it's so small she could probably continue talking immediately after.

"You'll have to forgive her for her enthusiasm, her guidance counsellor is coming out." Dad apologizes, his meal already halfway gone due to Mom carrying most of the conversation.

"No, it's great actually. I'd actually like to talk about that some time, if you don't mind." Marina replies. I don't even think she knows how good she's looking right now in the eyes of my parents. Mom beams.

"Oh, honey, I would love to! It's so refreshing for a young person to have a plan." Mom says, looking at pointedly, as I'm undecided at the moment. I look down at my food but see Marina glance at me out of the corner of my eye, her lips pressed together to hide a smile. She knew what that look meant.

"So, what school do do you work at?" Marina refocuses the conversation, much to my appreciation. Mom launches into an unnecessarily exciting description of her job and Marina nods along, commenting occasionally.

As I watch Marina talk with my parents, I'm amazed at the ease she's handling everything. Her responses are fast but thought through, and her eyes are intent, interested. I know she can't be finding my parent's careers anymore interesting than I find them, but she's sure doing a good looking like it. Even the clothes she's wearing is perfect, kind of casual but not too casual, not that I'd know the difference anyway. All I know is that it shouldn't be possible for someone to look so good in jeans. And I had no idea an unbuttoned plaid shirt could look classy if you just put it over a white tank top. Her sense of style is undeniable. I'm starting to think she was just made for people to like her.

After supper Marina helps Mom clean up. Even though Mom protests the action the entire time, I can tell she's impressed. I can also gauge Dad's high level of approval by the raised eyebrows and thumbs up he keeps shooting me from across the table. I had no doubt they'd like her anyway.

We head into the living room afterwards for tea and more conversation, until Mom decides that it's absolutely imperative that she go to the store tonight, and that it's also a two man job. She gives Marina the option to stay, and I'm glad when she takes it. She thanks my parents again before they leave, and I push myself off the rail that overlooks the porch when the door closes, turning to her.

"So, now that we've got the house to ourselves..." I trail off suggestively and waggle my eyebrows at her. "Wanna watch a movie?" I walk backwards into the living room, grinning as she breathes out a laugh.

"You know, for a second it sounded like you were implying something else." She raises her eyebrows warningly as she follows me into the living room, still with that relaxed smile on her face.

"I would never. As you said yourself, I am a gentlemen." I take a quick glance over my shoulder to make sure I haven't veered off course, turning back almost immediately after being assured that my path is hazard free. After all, the image in front of me isn't something I want to spend too much time looking away from.

"I _did_ say that, didn't I?" She muses, humour in her eyes.

"Indeed you did, Your Majesty." I wink at her and realize I've reached the couch that faces the TV. I sit down and rest my arm on top of the back cushions, not missing the way her eyes dart down to the empty space on the cushion below. During the advancement of our newly formed relationship, it's become clear that Marina is hesitant to initiate much of the interaction between the two of us. I'm pretty sure she thinks she'll do something wrong if I don't encourage the action first. To combat this, I have developed the strategy to make my cues painfully obvious, sometimes to the point of embarrassment. And even then she's still apprehensive.

Fortunately, tonight she's deemed the very casual placement of my arm as enough evidence to support my objective. She still seems unsure when she takes a seat but loosens up when I drop my arm over her shoulders and gently pull her closer. Despite my heart skipping a beat at the close proximity, what can only be described as a goofy grin is still on my face. Yeah, I could get used to this.

"So, what kind of movie do you want to watch?" I ask. I pick up the remote off the side table as Marina shrugs.

"It doesn't matter." She says.

"Well, it _is_ Halloween." I point out, clicking the Netflix app on the TV. "Perhaps a horror movie is in order?"

She's silent for a second before saying, "I don't care."

The gears in my mind start turning. According to Dad, the sentence 'I don't care' coming from a woman means a definite no. Is it too stereotypical to say that piece of advice is true for Marina too? The silence before the statement, coupled with the fact that she's too polite to say flat out 'no' to a suggestion makes a pretty good case in my opinion.

"I mean, just because it's Halloween doesn't mean we _have_ to watch a horror movie." I backtrack hesitantly. She just shrugs again, which does nothing to ease my dilemma. "I'm not too fond of them anyway. Too predicable" I try.

Marina nods and lets out a breath. "Okay good. I don't really like them either, but I would have watched one if you wanted to."

I'll have to make it a point to thank Dad for his wisdom later, but right now I just scroll though the movies on the TV, too shocked he was actually right to make up another lie about my dislike of the horror genre. I honestly couldn't care less about what we watch. Being in my current predicament, I doubt I'll be paying much attention to the movie anyway.

"You were a natural, by the way. Dealing with my parents I mean." I say.

"It actually wasn't bad. You're parents are pretty awesome."

My eyebrows shoot up and I glance down at her at the same time she looks up, probably expecting the reaction. "You don't have to lie."

"I'm not lying." She insists. "I've been dealing with stiff adult conversation my entire life. Trust me, your parents are great."

"Your entire life?" I repeat, ignoring her compliments about my parents. "Who are these people intent on bringing misery into your days?" I state theatrically. She chuckles and I don't know if it's because of my question or her answer to it.

"My Aunts." She says. I arch an eyebrow and she elaborates. "My mother has two sisters, and they're both nuns. Not that there's anything wrong with nuns or anything but they're..." she seems to struggle for a second, stuck on something to say that's not too offensive, "stuck in their ways." She finishes.

"Like how?" I ask, continuing my scroll through the TV as my search for an appropriate genre has yet to yield any results. A romance seems too sappy, and I'll take a wild guess and say an action movie is out of the question.

"They just have really strict rules." She explains. "Like we're not allowed to run in the house, they get mad when we go on our phones, their houses have dress codes, and we have to call them 'sister' instead of 'aunt'."

"Okay, that last one is really weird." I admit. She shrugs.

"It's their official titles in the convent I guess." She replies. She seems indifferent about the whole thing, whereas I'm finding it hard to conceal my shock. Being with the family in my life has only ever been a comfortable feeling. I find it hard to imagine being a guest in someone's house and feeling like you're walking on eggshells.

"I'll tell you what. Next time you're over there, let me know and I'll text you with a fake emergency so you can escape."

"No phones, remember?" She reminds me. I just shrug, determined to remain undeterred.

"It's okay. We'll be sneaky. Like in 'Oceans Eleven'." I say. For second, I fear she won't get the reference, but she laughs, a soft vibration against my side.

"You know, I think getting me out would actually require a higher level of planning." She jokes, displaying her knowledge of the film. Huh, maybe I shouldn't have flicked past that action movie section.

"Nonsense." I wave off her hope-lacking remark easily. "It'll be great and we'll free Ella too. Mark my words, Your Highness." I summon as much confidence into the statement as I can, a grin stretching across my face at the thought of successfully bailing Ella and her out of the situation.

Her quiet chuckle and shaking head make me look down. "You are painfully optimistic. You know that?" She accuses lightly.

It's true. Finding a bright side in any situation has never really been an issue for me. And right now, I wonder how I could ever see something so dull as to give up on finding a lighter note. Things are just going so incredibly right at the moment. Specifically this moment, with Marina by my side, just the two of us. If there was ever a time for an abundance of optimism, now would be it.

"Yes, I do know." I say in response, a relaxed grin on my face that communicates I'm not one bit ashamed of it. "I don't have a reason not to be. Rom-com?"

"Hm?" Her eyebrows knit in confusion at the unexpected addition to the sentence. Her thoughtful eyes dart to the TV, expression clearing upon noticing the genre on the the screen. "Oh yeah, sure."

We end up watching some Adam Sandler movie that Marina agrees on, "Fifty First Dates". Even though Adam Sandler basically plays the same character in every film, there's no denying that his movies are almost always a solid choice, and this is no exception. It's about a girl who loses her memory and always thinks it's the same day, so she doesn't remember meeting Adam, or whatever person he's playing in this film. Everyday he takes her on a different first date, hence the title. I briefly consider jotting down a few ideas. Aside from having to get up a few times to serve some late trick-or-treaters, we get to watch the movie uninterrupted.

Eventually Marina moves to the other side of the small couch, leaning her elbow on the arm of the sofa and curling her legs up to fit on one cushion. She laughs at my expression of mock offence. "Come on, your arm _has_ to be hurting by now."

"Nope. It went numb about ten minutes ago." I argue matter-of-factly. "But even if it did hurt, I would bear the pain for you, my love." I finish theatrically, extending an arm toward her. She presses her lips together to fight a smile and shoves my leg lightly with her foot, to which I dramatically cry out in pain. "You've wounded me."

"Oh shush." Marina wrinkles her nose at me. The childish action on the usually mature girl makes me laugh, and to my appreciation, a smile lights up her face shortly after.

We keep watching the movie, and I'm honestly more comfortable now that my arm is coming back to life. As feel myself start to grow tired, I suspect the newfound position has something to do with it. I'm still sitting up, but the side of my head leans against a fist I have propped up on the back cushion. Well, it would be a resting place for my head if I didn't feel myself nodding off every few minutes. Knowing that it would be rude to fall asleep while Marina is here, I angle my vision determinedly toward the TV, desperate to ignore the weight in my eyelids. After all, I'm the one who chose this activity and I'll be _damned_ if I let myself doze off.

"Joseph."

I jerk awake at the sound of Marina's voice, probably looking drunk as I stare around the room in confusion with half closed eyes. The movie is still playing on the screen so I can at least take comfort in the fact that I haven't been out for that long.

"Hey, could you run me home now? I'm getting pretty tired." She asks.

"Oh sure." I say a little too quickly, reaching for the remote and turning off the TV. I have a feeling she's just saying it for my benefit, but I'm not going to argue.

Despite the relatively nice day we had, it's a foggy night, and I can feel the dampness in the air when I step outside. Even though I put a jacket on before coming out, my shoulders scrunch up and I shove my hands in my pockets.

"It's cold." I comment.

"You're always cold." Marina says, not seeming affected by the temperature.

"I have a right! It's like, freezing right now."

"It's seven degrees." She corrects, a light smile on her face as she looks at me from across the car.

"You know, you're being awfully smart for a person who said they were tired." I arch a suspicious eyebrow at her, leaning an elbow on the edge of the car. She shoots back the same expression with what I think is supposed to be a smirk, but the cocky expression doesn't fit on her face. It ends up more adorable than anything.

"I'm not the one who fell asleep." She counters.

"Ah, but did I _say_ I was tired?" I ask, holding up a finger as though I'm making a valuable point.

"You're acting as though not saying it makes it untrue."

I look at her for a second over the roof of the car. "Your majesty," I say. She raises her eyebrows expectantly, that damn cute expression still on her face. "Get in the car."

I pull the slightly damp handle on the drivers side door and hear her laugh as I get in. I start up the car quickly because yes, I am still cold and refuse to wait a moment longer than necessary without heat.

"It was a good movie, by the way." Marina says as I pull the car out of the driveway.

"I have been known to pick a great movies from time to time." I agree, even though I only saw a bit of it.

"Known by who?" She asks.

"Myself obviously." I continue down the now dark street, able to the see the fog clearly in the headlights. The only time I've ever brought Marina home has been from the school and once from the skating rink, but I know I won't have any trouble finding her house. I've already been there multiple times after all. I hit an intersection and turn on my left blinker.

"You have to go right." Marina informs. I quickly flip the blinker switch the other way.

"I knew that. I was just seeing if you knew, that's all." I reply, obviously joking, though a little worried that I couldn't figure out how to backtrack from the route I took to get here.

"I thought you would have known where my house is by now." Marina teases, basically reading my thoughts.

"I though so too." I admit with a chuckle. "But nothing is wrong with a good adventure."

"Something _could_ be wrong if this adventure took us past midnight." She points out. She's joking too but the words are right. Where we live, having your license for under a year means you're not allowed to drive from 12am-5am unless you have proof you need to be somewhere. I've never really taken the rule too seriously.

"I usually take that as more of a suggestion." I say, shrugging. "I mean everyone does it."

"Well, not everyone."

I raise an eyebrow and glance at her. "You've never driven past twelve." I say skeptically.

She laughs a little and shakes her head. "What reason would I even have for being out past twelve? Really."

"Well, I don't know." I shrug again, this time narrowing my eyes slightly at her. "Maybe to go to some wild party. Some clubbing perhaps?" I continue.

"No, I'm not a criminal like you." She says accusingly. I gasp quietly. "Driving past midnight. Despicable. And here I thought you were nice." She crosses her arms and raises her eyebrows at me, not exactly looking the definition of serious with the smile tugging at her lips. I force myself to look solemn and nod.

"You're right. The nice-guy act was just a ploy to get you." I turn the wheel to account for a heavy curve in the road and continue on. "It just, my criminal past isn't really first date material you know?"

Marina lets out a small laugh, looking out her window and shaking her head. "Yes, I can imagine."

When I pull into Marina's driveway, it's 11:30. Still plenty of time to get home before my so-called deadline, and also plenty of time for Mom and Dad to be back. I stop and Marina reaches for the handle to open the door, stopping when I put a hand on her arm to stop her.

When she looks in my direction I lean across the console and press my lips to hers, quicker than either of us can say anything. We've kissed a good few times by now, but I'm far from used to the feeling. It's exhilarating, an adrenaline rush, like a high-speed chase or falling from the sky. My heart beats faster, my mind becomes blank and suddenly there's nothing else, only this moment. I suspect it's a sensation I'll never get used to, but I don't mind. It's incomparable.

When we pull away, I'm already smiling a tad too hard for my liking, and staring a bit too intently, but I can't help it. It's her eyes. The spark in them when she smiles, the warm colour, like coming inside after a day in the cold. It's just amazing and captivating and god I've seriously got to stop staring.

"Alright," I put a another quick kiss on her head before leaning back over to my side. Her cheeks are flushed, but I bet mine are too. "Be safe getting in."

She laughs a little and raises her eyebrows, her former surprised expression transformed into an amused one in a matter of seconds. "You mean, be safe getting to my door that's twenty feet away?" She grabs the handle of the door and opens it, putting a foot out onto the ground.

"Yes, that's actually exactly what I mean." I reply seriously.

Now outside the car, she leans down so she can still see inside. "Thanks again, for supper and everything else."

"No, thank _you_ for coming." I reply. She chuckles, the corner of her mouth tilted into a smile.

"Alright, see you, Joseph."

It's always either 'Joe' or 'Joey' when people refer to me. Marina is the only one that says my full name all the time. It's nice. I smile.

"Catch you later, Sea Girl."

 **Riley**

The convenience store is a pretty empty place on Halloween night. Kids and their parents are too busy roaming crowded subdivision streets tonight to stop into the store for anything more than a candy shortage crisis. There isn't even anyone to be seen for a mile from here, as the store is located on the side of a main road, hardly a safe place to efficiently hunt for candy.

I don't mind the emptiness really, though the idle nature of a quiet shop is less than ideal, especially with nobody else working tonight to talk to. I stand at the counter alone, staring out the door and onto the quickly darkening street, hoping for a car to pull into the tight parking lot. My eyes constantly dart around for something to do as I lean my elbows on the front counter, absentmindedly kicking the floor with the toe of my shoe as I submit myself to my fate of boredom.

Restlessness has always been a trait of mine. A quality shared by my father, but despised by my mother. She was often the one who was left to deal with my knack for activity, wether it was sweeping up fragments from something I tipped over, or feverishly cleaning up the aftermath of a spilled drink. Considering she was far from a patient woman, it's imaginable that these incidents were not ideal. I thought I would grow out of it eventually, but it hasn't happened. Though I'm proud to say that not as many things get broken in my presence anymore, so I guess I've improved somewhat.

With no warning, a click sounds through the store, sharp and quick. The lights shut off, leaving me in almost complete darkness. The steady hum of the fridges that my ears have become accustomed to cuts out too, instead a ringing replaces the sound, drawn in my ears by the sudden silence. Other than the fact that my sight is now impaired, I'm not too worried. The breaker has been tripping in the store recently, but usually the manager is here to flip the switch, solving the problem for the short term. She's never called anyone in to take a look at it though, which is a little concerning. I was told not to fool with it if it happened again, and call the owner.

Taking my phone out of my pocket and turning on the flash light, I start making my way the the back room where the breaker panel is located behind a door in the wall. I'm not an electrician or anything so I doubt I'll be able to fix anything, but it doesn't make me any less curious as to what's going on.

I get to the panel and open it up, immediately realizing that I have no idea what I'm looking at. I do however notice that it's a bit cloudy in the box, and the smell tells me it's smoke. Now I'm no electrician, but I'm pretty good at picking up patterns, even in a breaker box as old and messy as this one. It probably needs to be updated. Patterns in this panel box tell me a short section of a black and shiny wire should not be touching. Actually, a bit of the black wire seems to be eroding away from the contact, or rather, burning away from the contact. Realizing this, I obviously proceed by doing the least logical thing imaginable. I stick my hand in it.

A feeling like a hot blade erupts in my fingertips and I yank my hand out with a hiss. "Okay, that was stupid." I mutter, nodding as I acknowledge my own cluelessness. I don't think wires are supposed to be this hot. Though I'm not going to give up after just finding the source of the problem.

Finding nothing in the room to use as a tool, I pull a bobby pin out of my hair and stick it between the two wires, hoping to somehow jimmy them apart. It takes a little bit of careful maneuvering, but I manage to get the wires apart, still not completely certain if I'm going to mess up the entire system or not. I feel a spike of nerves as I put my hand on the breaker switch, and have to count to three before I can convince myself to finally flip it. I cringe away from the panel as the breaker flips back up.

The lights switch on.

I can't stop a laugh of both surprise and relief. The first because it actually worked, the latter because nothing exploded in the process. Common sense tells me that the lights probably would have switched back on regardless of my intervention with the wires, but I can't help but feel a weird sense of pride as I shut the panel door and make my way out of the room.

In fact, I'm so proud of myself that I fail to notice the shelf in front of me, trying to swerve out of the way at the last second. I know I didn't fully avoid it when I stumble to a stop, closing my eyes with an exasperated sigh as I hear a couple bags of chips hit the floor behind me. I suppose it would have been too much to ask for a dignified exit. Oh well, gracefulness has never been my strong suit anyway. At least nobody was here to see it.

"Don't worry, I'll get that for you."

Scratch that, somebody is definitely in the store. More specifically, a man standing right behind me. I turn around calmly, trying to salvage any charade of dignity I have left, which isn't saying much. He's bent down, picking up two packs of chips from the floor. I know who it is right away, even without seeing his face.

"I believe these are yours, m'lady." Stanley stands back up with the bags in his hand, holding them out for me to take. Of course, his signature smirk is ever present on his face.

"How did you get in here?" I wonder out loud. He quirks an eyebrow at me and I rush to amend the slightly blunt statement. "Without me knowing, I mean. How did you you get in here without me knowing? There's a uh-" I gesture to the front of the store without looking and take the bags from his hands, leaning down to put them back in their previous positions. "There's a sensor that rings when the door is opened so I should have heard if someone came in, as in, I should have heard that _you_ came in." I stand back up as I finish my unnecessarily long explanation. My hands are now free, though I have no idea what to do with them. I settle for scratching the back of my neck.

"Well, it was dark when I came in. Was the power out or something?"

Right. I suppose it was my surprise of seeing him here that led to my sudden forgetfulness. After all, I've seen his house, and his lifestyle is far above needing to shop at a multi-decade old convenience store. I honestly wouldn't be too surprised if he got his groceries delivered by helicopter or something.

"Right yeah." I look up at the lights as though I just noticed them on. "The power was out. Probably why the sensor didn't work. Because, you know, it runs on power." I don't know why I felt the need to say the last part.

"Yes, thanks for the clarification." He says sarcastically.

I force out a chuckle, starting back down the aisle and hearing his footsteps fall into pace behind me.

"So, the lights coming on..." I look over my shoulder as I continue walking to see him making a lazy gesture to the ceiling with his index finger. "You have anything to do with that?"

"Oh yeah." I turn to look ahead of me again, realizing my feet have wandered my body too close to the shelves during my inattention. I have to cross my right foot over my left during my next step to guide myself back into the middle of the aisle. I would probably shake my head at my apparent inability to walk a straight line if it was new phenomenon for me. Instead, I just keep walking. "The breaker has been tripping so I just went and flipped it."

"You know, usually the breaker trips for a reason." He warns in the form of teasing. "You should probably get that checked."

"I checked it." I defend. I reach the counter and walk around it while Stanley stays respectively on the customers side. "I'm pretty sure one of the wires is stripped and it was touching a black one so-"

"I believe that's called a short circuit." He comments, leaning his elbows on the counter so we're eye level.

"What are you, an electrician?" I tease.

His smile holds more than a hint of smugness. "Are you?" _Huh, touché_. I don't even try to find a retort and just continue.

"So anyway," I start, ignoring his grin of amusement at my lack of a counter, "I tried to separate them but-"

"You shouldn't do that. Those are really hot." He interrupts.

"Glad you're keeping up." I mutter. I subconsciously flex the burnt fingers on my right hand, which is thankfully now free of a cast. "So I stuck a bobby pin-"

"You stuck a piece of metal in an electrical box. Are you kidding me?"

I groan at his interruptions, though a laugh runs through it to be sure I don't offend him. "First of all; bobby pins are plastic coated, which isn't a conductor. Second; the breaker tripped, so there was no power running through anything. I don't have a dead wish, I can assure you." I raise my eyebrows, amused slightly that he doesn't seem to be able to conjure a retort for that. "May I continue?"

While retorts and witty comebacks may be his strong suit, facts is one of mine, which is something that can't be argued. Sure enough, he shuts up, his only response being the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"So I separated them. I know the wire is still stripped and hot or whatever, but hopefully it'll stop the breaker from tripping until somebody can come in to look at it." I finish finally. Stanley nods. "See? I'm fine, and I could have gotten that out in like two seconds if you didn't keep interrupting me." I complain.

"Well, excuse me for being concerned then." He shrugs. "But I think you're lying. About being fine, I mean."

"Why wouldn't I be fine?"

"You burned your fingers, didn't you?"

He smirks when I curl my hand into a fist to hide my fingertips. "How do you know so much about this anyway?" He doesn't seem to mind me leaving his question unanswered, just shrugging again.

"What can I say? I just know things." He says nonchalantly. I raise an eyebrow skeptically and that smug grin quickly makes its way across his face. "Plus I took the power and energy course in school."

"Power and energy?" I repeat disbelievingly. "Why that course? Aren't you supposed to be a badass or something?"

He rolls his eyes. "I didn't sign up for it, okay? It was just in my schedule when I got it." He pauses. "And by the way, I'm not _supposed_ to be a badass, I am a badass."

He does a casual push-up off the counter to stand up straight again, suddenly looking down at me instead of being face to face. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't even a little attracted to him. That cocky grin, hazel eyes and the perfectly tousled hair. Even having to tilt my head to look up at him is strangely endearing. I'm disappointed at myself for liking him. After all, I've seen the way he flirts around the school, and I've heard classmates gushing over him every chance they get. I get it, he's hot and charming and...

I clear my throat as the word 'sexy' enters my mind, grasping for another topic of conversation. "You did come in here for something I'm guessing?" I ask, glad I found something to say.

"Right, yeah." He says like he forgot. "Ran out of Halloween candy." Well, that would explain his spur of the moment visit into the shop. After all, I've been working here for a couple of years now and he's never walked in once.

"Oh. Well, we only have individual packs here, you can't buy anything in bulk." I explain. "It would have been cheaper to go to walmart or something."

He shrugs. "This was closer and we're kind of in rush."

"And yet you waste time talking to me?" I ask with a chuckle.

"I wouldn't really call it _wasting_ time." He shoots me that handsome smirk again, his tone charming. The playful look in his eyes actually causes my stomach to twist, even though I'm almost certain he's not trying to flirt with me. I'm pretty sure that what everybody else categorizes as flirting, he categorizes as normal interaction. It occurs to me that he may not know how _not_ to flirt.

"Wether it's wasting time or not, you should get home before the kids start forming an angry mob or something." I say. He only scoffs in amusement, the idea apparently laughable.

"I'd like to see them try and get through this." He holds his arm in front of him and flexes his bicep, looking smug.

"I'm sure they'll be intimidated by flexing."

"Well, if it comes to further measures I think it's safe to say that nobody will be getting any candy."

I laugh, leaning my body into my hands, which are rested on the edge of the counter. "With the rate your shopping is going, I doubt they'll get any candy regardless."

"You doubt me? I'll be honest, I'm hurt." Stanley shakes his head in mock offence before taking a step back and looking down at the shelves alongside the counter. He grabs a couple handfuls of chocolate bars and lays them on the counter. "There." He states, like he's done something meaningful.

"You do know that by the time you cut those into enough pieces to feed the subdivision, Halloween will be over."

Stanley groans and I find a grin on my face. "This is so hard." He complains.

"It's not hard."

"Oh yeah? I don't see you doing it."

"Because I'm not the one who needs candy."

"Still."

I laugh a little at his complaining. "Alright, look down at the shelves here." I point at the shelves he just got the chocolate bars off of. "Sour peaches; fifty cents each. Take the whole box." He does and lays them on the counter with his earlier discovery. "Now, the aisle on the left, in the middle, there's some bars for seventy five cents." I say. He nods and starts to walk over. "Take a basket." I remind him.

He turns on his heel and comes back to the basket pile by the door. "I was going to do that." He says, that same handsome grin making an appearance again. I momentarily forget where everything else is in the store until he turns his back.

"So, do you just know where everything in the store is, like, off the top of your head?" He asks after I send him to the back of the shop to look for some no name brands of chips. The store isn't that big, so I can hear him clearly from the front.

"Pretty much." I answer, scanning his many packages of sour candy.

"And I guess you know how much everything costs too." He jokes as I hear the crinkling of chip bags being thrown into his basket. I just shrug and after a pause, his head pops up from the end of the short aisle. "Oh my god, you actually do don't you?"

"Well, I'm sure not everyth-"

"How much is bread?" He interrupts. He seems to do that a lot.

I sigh. "White or whole wheat?"

He makes a game out of it during the next couple of minutes, pointing out items in the store and asking me how much they are. I just continue to scan through the candy as I answer, him laughing every time I get it right. He seems to be easily amused, but then, I guess I am too.

"Wow." He says when he gets up to the counter. "How can somebody so smart put their bare hand into an electrical panel?" He shakes his head and smirks when I sigh.

"Just because I have a good memory doesn't mean I'm smart." I defend. "And, I just wanted to know what was wrong with the power. Is that so bad?" I continue to scan his items through, now moved on from the sour candies to his chips.

"Have you ever heard of 'curiosity killed the cat'?" He teases.

"Have you ever heard the ending to that phrase?" I counter. Stanley's eyebrows furrow and for once, I have the upper hand in our small argument.

"I thought that was the whole thing."

"Nope. The actual phrase is 'curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back'." I say, smiling at his silence. "I'm full of useless facts."

"I wouldn't really call that useless." He shrugs. "Tell me another one."

"Okay, um..." I think for a second, suddenly at a loss for facts now that I've been asked to present one. "The average human has a lower attention span that an ill-attentive goldfish." I say helpfully.

"What? That can't be true." He replies, offended. I chuckle at his frown. "According to who?"

"Uh, science?" I laugh. Stanley shakes his head and clicks his tongue, crossing his arms. "If it makes you feel any better, it's only by a second." I try.

He stares at me with a scrutinizing expression before letting out a huff of air though his nose. "It's a goldfish, so no. It doesn't make me feel better."

"Are you always so personally offended when the topic of aquatic animals arises?" I ask, quirking an eyebrow.

"Only when they have a better attention span than me."

"Seriously? I think eight seconds is still a pretty good attention span." I say, shrugging.

"Not good enough when a fish is ahead of me."

"Well they're probably not ahead of you specifically. We _have_ been on this topic for a while."

He smirks, apparently forgetting his offence from just moments ago. "See, that was supposed to be an insult, but I'll just take the compliment."

I roll my eyes with a laugh and scan in the last item. I feel my eyebrows shoot up when I see total, but then again, he did buy a lot of stuff, exemplified by the mountain of junk food that now sits on the other side of me. "That'll be eighty dollars and fifty-two cents."

I expect him to be confused or at least a little surprised, but he just chuckles and takes a credit card from his back pocket. "Hope those kids are happy." He mutters, though there's a smile on his lips. By the sleek look of the card, it's probably his Dad's, but I wouldn't put it past Stanley to have his own credit card already. Not that it's a bad thing, just not a common thing.

"Would you like a bag?" I joke as he pays. He laughs and takes a glance at the mountain he has accumulated.

"I guess I could juggle them, but a bag _would_ be more efficient."

My eyebrows shoot up as I start packing his belongings into a plastic bag. "Can you seriously juggle?" I ask.

"No, that was actually called sarcasm." His head is tilted to look down at the debit machine, but his eyes are focused on me, a genuine smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. I grin at the different expression and his smile widens too.

"You know, I was _almost_ impressed." I sigh dramatically and pass him the first bag, a laugh breaking through when I see his eyebrows shoot up.

"Wow, so I have to be able to juggle to impress you? Tough critic." He removes his card from the machine after it beeps, signalling the end of the transaction. He shoves it back in his back pocket as I start working on a second bag. "You know what? I'm going to learn how to juggle, just for you."

"I'm honoured."

"Oh, you should be." He assures me, taking the second bag when I hand it to him. It looks like I'll only need to pack a couple more, though they're all packed pretty tight. "I don't put much effort into a lot of things, but I promise you that I will do this, if it's the last thing I do."

"You really want to learn how juggle that bad?" I tease.

I shakes his head. "Riley, I could care less about the juggling." He says. My eyebrows pinch together as I finish packing his last bag, holding two over the counter. "This is about impressing you, obviously."

Stanley smirks as he plucks the bags out my hand, turning and heading toward the door while I stare after him, no words coming to mind to bid him farewell. He turns around when he has the door half open, leaning his body onto the handle. "Next time I see you, Miss Pierce, I _will_ know how to juggle, and that's a promise." He winks and walks through the door, leaving my mind oddly blank. Well, damn him.

I wait until I hear the sound of his truck pulling out of the parking lot before I make my way to the back room to restock the shelfs with the products he just took. At least he left me with something to keep me busy.

 **Hey guys, hope you enjoyed the chapter! Also, I _did_ research stuff about electricity and breakers, but I'm still not completely confident the situation in this chapter is realistically correct. So sorry if you know how electricity works and I got it completely wrong. And if I did get it wrong and you want to let me know how it actually works, go ahead and PM me so I'll know for future reference :)**

 **Leave a review and tell me how it was :) thanks for reading**


	16. Chapter 16

**Hey guys! I'm pretty sure I got this one up in close to a month so I guess that's progress?**

 **I got a few questions in the reviews so...**

 **loricnumbersix6: I'll warn you, Riley and Stanley is going to be a slow burn, because both of those characters still have some issues to work out. Jix will take a shorter amount of time for sure. Maybe not sometime in the next couple of chapters, but it's coming. Thanks for the review by the way, I'm glad you like the story and I hope you continue to :)**

 **Guest: Glad you liked the Joseph POV, I wasn't so sure about it but if you guys found it good, than I'm Alright with that :) Honestly, until I read your review I had completely forgotten that Stanley hadn't had a POV since forever ago. Thanks for reminding me and thanks for the review!**

 **Guest: I don't think I'll be writing any books soon but thank you for the lovely review :) As for your question: if you mean 'more coming' as in chapters? Yes, for sure. If you mean 'more coming' as in stories? I have a few ideas, but since I can hardly keep up with this one, I'll have to wait until I have more time on my hands :)**

 **lorienlegacies96: First of all, great idea! The thought has actually crossed my mind, and I would love to write more stories, but I just don't have the time :( If it's any consolation, the characters in this story can't stay high schoolers forever... Thanks for the review!**

 **To anyone else who left a review, thank you. The support means a lot and motivates me to write, and I love reading them.**

 **Anyway, I'm posting this at three in the morning so forgive me if there's any mistakes I haven't picked up on. Read on, and I hope you enjoy :)**

 **John**

I walk into Mr. Byrne's class, confused after the announcement that went over the speakers in the school, telling all of the students to go to homeroom first thing in the morning. Usually we only go to homeroom after second period for ten minutes so the teachers can tell us the daily announcements, so this is a weird occurrence. I texted Stanley and Joseph to ask why, but neither of them knew either.

I smile at Riley as I walk to the back of the class, toward the empty seat next to her. I used to talk to her a little bit in homeroom before I became friends with Maren, but I think both of us feel more comfortable making conversation now that our friend groups have merged. Plus, we're in the same Math and English class this year, so we see each other pretty often anyway.

"Hey." I greet as I sit down, laying my books on the desk and nodding at her. She's smiling and has her head tilted to the side.

"You cut your hair." She says. I've noticed she does that a lot; starts off a conversation with a statement rather than a proper greeting. I don't mind, it gives the conversation something to build on right off the bat.

"Oh, yeah." I chuckle a bit, automatically reaching a hand up to touch the subject in question. The shorter cut feels strange under my fingers, but it's easier to manage, and as Dad told me, it looks classier. "Easier to deal with." I explain.

Riley nods understandingly. "It looks nice." She says, smiling with half her mouth so one eye squints more than the other. "Classy." She adds. I guess Dad was right.

"Thanks." I say. I'm honestly glad I've gotten some female approval for the new look, seeming I'll be seeing Maren sometime in the next couple of hours. I wouldn't admit it, but her suggestion of the idea accounts for at least a little bit of the reason I decided to make the change. "Do you know why we're here?" I ask Riley, changing the subject.

Her eyebrows pinch together and she chuckles a little. "Uh, to learn?" She replies. I raise my eyebrows at her, waiting for her to get it. As I suspected, her expression clears shortly after. "Oh! You mean _homeroom_ , not the entire school. Yeah, that makes a lot more sense." She rolls her eyes, pressing her lips together in disappointment at herself. It's funny, you can always tell what emotion she's feeling just by the look on her face. She just might have the most animated series of expressions I've ever seen.

I laugh at her and she quickly smiles, having no trouble making fun of herself. "It's for the fundraiser thing the school does every year. You know, when they give us tickets and we have to go out and sell a bunch." She explains. My eyebrows shoot up, surprised that she actually knew the answer when everyone else seems to be clueless about the subject.

"How did you know that?" I ask.

"It was in the newsletter." She replies like it's obvious.

"We have a school newsletter?"

She nods. "Yeah, but don't feel too bad for not knowing about it, nobody actually reads it." She explains. I feel my eyebrows furrow in confusion.

"Didn't _you_ read it?"

"Well... Yeah" she says. I don't question it, and just chuckle.

I like the ease of the conversation, although it's almost impossible for an exchange to be awkward when talking to Riley anyway. She constantly fills silences and always has an amused reaction to a joke or a comeback. A lot like Joseph actually, but just a little calmer.

We both divert our attention to the intercom as it beeps twice before the principle's voices rings out over the system, beginning to explain the fundraiser. The higher grades know how it all works by now anyway, but I listen regardless. She goes over the procedure, explaining how people who want to sell tickets can get booklets of them from their homeroom teachers. The buyer's tickets go into a draw to win a two thousand dollar travel voucher from the local agency, and the profits raise money for the school, which helps sports teams and other stuff.

When she finishes explaining the fundraiser Mr. Byrne starts going around and asking all of the students how many booklets they want. He's an easy-going teacher, and I luckily have him for Bio. When he comes around to me, I take two so I can show some semblance of contribution. It's two dollars per ticket or five dollars for three, so you'll get twenty dollars if you sell a whole booklet. I'll just get Dad to buy both of them.

Once Mr. Byrne goes over the prizes for the best sellers, we get dismissed for our classes.

 _-Page Break-_

"You cut your hair."

Maren looks at me as I sit down, eyebrows raised in appreciation, or is that just politeness. It's hard to tell with her. The only assurance I have is that she doesn't look absolutely disgusted, so I guess that's something.

"Well, you did tell me to." I reply, taking a seat at the cafeteria table that has since become the regular lunch table for our group. Maren somehow manages to get here faster than anyone else most times. I'm not sure how she's does it, but if I were to take a guess, I would say she doesn't like to be in class longer than she has to.

"That was _one_ time." She says. "I didn't know you were going to take it to heart." She starts opening her lunch bag and I shrug.

"It was a good suggestion."

Her eyes dart up to mine as she takes a container out of her bag, no doubt containing a sandwich. "Was it though?" She inquires, eyeing my hair again before opening her container.

A strike of panic runs through me and I reach a hand up to feel it, like I've been doing a lot today. "Uh... yes?" I say, now unsure.

The corner of Maren's mouth pulls into a slight smile, her eyes amused. I realize she was joking. I've gotten better at picking up when she's kidding now, but I'm still not all the way there. "Your hair looks great, John." She assures. She takes a moment to look at it again, stuck on how to describe it I'm guessing. After a short second, she adds, "Classy."

I chuckle. "So I've been told." She arches an eyebrow in question, but before I can elaborate, Marina approaches the table, unsurprisingly followed by Joseph shortly after.

"Nice hair, man." He says as she sits down next to me, nodding in approval.

"Yeah. Looks classy." Marina comments.

I raise my eyebrows at Maren, communicating a 'see?' look. I'm pretty sure she holds back a a laugh when her eyes meet mine, but she only shrugs like, 'well it does'. Her expressions are always subtle; a slightly arched eyebrow, a small lift at the corner of her mouth or a quick glance. They're small portrayals of emotion that are easy to miss, but once aware of them, quite impossible to ignore. The only expressions that she really lets stand out are the confident ones, like a smirk or a wry smile. There's no mistaking that Maren is a hard person to read, but the task seems to be getting easier.

Riley is next to sit down, setting her lunch bag on the table and looking at the sandwich Maren is picking up.

"Ham?" She asks.

"Ham." Maren replies uninterestedly.

Riley nods and looks over at Marina, who's in the process of taking something out of her bag. "Salad?"

"Garden."

"Cool."

Apparently satisfied with that exchange, they continue their eating and unpacking like normal. This time my confused glance is directed at Joseph, the only other person sitting at the table who seems aware that a series of one word sentences should not logically lead to an understanding. He just shakes his head at me.

I notice movement coming toward us and focus my vision to see Stanley striding in the direction of the table, a piece of paper in one hand and a slice of pizza in the other. He's usually the last to get here, due to his insistence to get his lunch from the cafeteria line. He usually takes his time sauntering over, maybe slowing down to wink at a couple of his admirers before taking a seat. Today though, he walks like he's on a mission.

He drops his food down next to Riley and stays standing for a moment, leaning down so he rests his hands on the table's edge, pushing his body weight into them.

"One word..." he announces seriously, "second place."

" _That's_ two words." Maren says.

"Nuance." He dismisses, waving his hand. He goes to sit down in the space next to Riley and she leans over to Maren while he's putting a leg over the bench.

"The guy can't count, but he knows what _nuance_ means." She says, so quiet I'm sure I only heard it because I'm sitting almost directly across from her. The corner of Maren's mouth quirks up slightly- one of those subtle expressions- and she looks down at her food.

"Heard that." Stanley roughly drops into his seat, not looking the least bit offended like his words would suggest. Riley looks sheepish anyway, which makes him smirk.

"Why second place?" Joseph speaks up. "Don't people usually aim for first?"

"Not this time." Stanley replies. He looks excited, and I can't decide if it's a good or bad thing. "Not us. _We_ are aiming for second." He makes a circular gesture with his finger around the table, indicating our group. I'm sure all of our expressions of confusion are similar. He takes a bite of his pizza.

Maren clears her throat before speaking. "Uh... what?"

"Alright, does anyone know how many tickets the winning group sold last year for the contest?" He asks around the food in his mouth.

"Why do _you_ know?" I ask.

"I don't." He looks confused and I realize that he was asking a legitimate question. "Seriously, does anyone know?" I remember the number was mentioned briefly in the announcements last year, but I never took note of it. I don't know who would.

"Why would _anyone_ -"

"It was like, two thousand one hundred sixty four dollars worth." Riley says casually, answering the question and successfully cutting off Joseph's words. She picks a chip out of her container on the table as we all blink stupidly at her, with the exception of Marina and Maren, who don't look all that surprised. Riley glances up from her food when she notices the silence, her eyes darting around the table before her expression turns sheepish. "Uh, give or take." She adds quietly.

Stanley chuckles. "And how many booklets is that, Miss Pierce?" He looks to her for another answer.

"Oh, I don't know..." She shakes her head, avoiding our eyes like she's embarrassed. "Each booklet is twenty dollars and twenty doesn't divide evenly into two thousand one hundred sixty four, so there would have to be some single tickets sold and _they're_ two dollars each. There's way more than one possibility-"

"Give us the largest amount it could be." Marina interrupts Riley's math rambling with a slight laugh, though reassuring all the same. Riley thinks about it for only a second.

"A hundred and eight." She says.

Josephs mouth drops open. "Booklets?" He asks.

"Give or take." Riley repeats. Uncomfortable with all of the eyes on her, she awkwardly clears her throat. "Uh, why is this relevant?" She asks Stanley.

"Well, I was thinking we could enter the ticket selling thing as a group so we can get the second place group prize." He explains. He pushes the piece of paper he sat down with into the centre of the table. I look at it and see that it's the notes from the briefing this morning.

"How did you get this?" I ask, knowing none of the students got a copy.

"I took it from Ms. Green's desk on the way out." He says like it's completely acceptable.

Since nobody else seems to be taking the initiative, I pick up the paper and scan through the words. "Second place group prize: box seats to the Legacies game." I read.

The Legacies is the AHL team in our area, and it's a pretty good prize considering most of the games are usually sold out, and also considering the sheer amount of interest most people have for the sport around here.

I move my eyes up to the first place prize and find that it's a weekend trip to a ski resort over Christmas break. I can see why Stanley set his sights on second place. The ski resort is eight hours drive away, so I would assume that most of us have not had much of a chance to practice the activity.

"Okay, that's a good prize and everything, but that's a lot of tickets to sell in a couple of weeks." Maren reasons.

"And how are going to know what place we're in?" Marina adds.

"We won't. That's why I asked how many tickets were sold last year. We just need to sell a little less than that." Stanley says, completely confident in his plan.

"You know that's not actually a good plan right? There's no guaranteeing that the top group is going to sell the same amount of tickets as last year." Maren says.

Stanley rolls his eyes. "Don't be so optimistic, sweetheart, we might actually think you're excited." He says sarcastically. Maren opens her mouth, a witty retort undoubtedly on the tip of her tongue, but Stanley speaks again before she can get the chance to say anything. "Anyway, the point is that you all need to get a lot more tickets to sell if we're going to try for this."

"Hold on, nobody has even agreed to this yet." I point out.

"Well we need at least three people to enter as group. So it's either we all join, or some of you don't get to go to a hockey game." He says.

It doesn't take long for us all to agree that we'll do it, if not for the sake of hockey tickets, than for the sake of generally raising money for the school.

"Perfect, I'll just go to the office and register us as a group." Stanley says after we've all decided. He pushes his now empty paper plate out of the way and leans his forearms on the table. I don't realize why he's looking at me weird until he points to my hair. "I like the new look, Johnny." He nods as though affirming his statement. Then he adds, "Classy."

"Thanks." I say to him, smiling like I'm _not_ running out of ways to respond to the comment that I've now heard on five separate occasions. I skim over the team section of the sheet again and raise an eyebrow. "It says here we need a team name."

I notice Maren's eyebrows tug together, but the expression looks more tired than anything. "Seriously?" She asks. I understand her exasperation. After all, I'm not sure going door-to-door to sell over a hundred books of tickets is actually worth what we'll get if we win.

"I think it'll be fun." Joseph counters brightly, then strikes an expression of determination. "Now all we have to do is create a name to strike fear in the hearts of our enemies!" He makes a fist and strikes the table with it to add to the dramatic declaration.

"Alright, calm down there, Ares." Marina says, looking at him out of the corner of her eye. I chuckle because I can see this type of situation being common in their relationship; Joseph going over the top only for Marina to calm him down. I'm glad they're together. Her calm, thoughtful nature is good for him just like his optimistic excitement is sometimes good for her I'm sure. They seem to compliment each other well.

Across the table, Stanley looks confused as everyone finds amusement at the comment. Riley notices and leans over, quietly telling him what I assume to be an explanation of the joke, that Ares is the God of war. His face clears and he nods, smiling.

"Anybody have any ideas?" I ask.

"Well we are in grade twelve." Joseph says. "How about we call ourselves something wise, like 'the elders' or something."

"Yeah, I'm not being on a team named after a bunch senior citizens, thank you very much." Maren says flatly. I hold back a chuckle but I can't stop a grin. She looks nonchalant, and I might think she's not amused. But then she catches my eye and the corner of her mouth twitches for a second before she looks away.

"Okay, anyone have a different angle to approach it from?" Marina suggests.

We naturally look to Riley for an answer after she helped with the first question, but she seems to be no help right now. "Don't look at me. I'm not creative." She says.

"Well, we want to keep ourselves away from first place, but also not be overtaken by third." Stanley muses.

"So, we're kind of... protecting second place?" Marina clues in, thankfully since I didn't know where Stanley was going with his statement.

He grins. "You got it, Princess."

He seems to actually care about this name, which I find funny since nobody could give less of a crap about whether we have a poetic meaning behind our title, or any meaning at all for that matter. We could probably call ourselves 'the elephants' and nobody would question it.

"So like... 'The Protectors' or 'The defence'. Something like that?" Joseph asks. Stanley nods, but doesn't seem sold. Wanting to make this go faster, I just say the first thing that comes to my head.

"How about 'The Guard'?"

Stanley looks at me and nods, grinning. It seems he's found a winner. "That's it, Johnny. Anyone object?"

He scans around the table as though anyone is actually going to shout their disapproval and open up the discussion again. After a few seconds, he taps the table with a fist, like he's a judge hammering down a mallet. "Then we shall be known as 'The Guard'."

 _-Page Break-_

It seems that statement wasn't entirely true. I know because when I went to ask Mr. Byrne for more tickets later, he asked the name of my team so he could make sure we all got credit for my tickets sold. I told him the name we had chosen but according to him, that name wasn't in the system.

Turns out, due to a spelling error made by Stanley, we shall not be known as 'The Guard' but rather, 'The Garde".

Maren already thought naming the team was stupid. I can't imagine how ecstatic she'll be when she finds this out.

 **Marina**

"Okay, big decision time..." Riley announces from her room. She waits a dramatic amount of time before continuing. "Which hat should I wear?"

I just shrug, in the process of packing our combined total of tickets into one backpack. "Whatever makes you happy."

" _Not_ the Toronto one." Maren yells.

"Alright, so the the Maple Leafs are out. _Got_ it."

Even before she comes out the room, I know she'll have it on. Sure enough, the navy ball cap is on her head as she comes into the living room, the logo of her favourite NHL team embroidered on the front. Maren lets out a short huff of annoyance, their hockey rivalry as alive as ever, or at least Maren's hatred for that specific team is. Her team is Pittsburg.

"There's something wrong with you." She mutters, sitting on the arm of the couch as she watches me uninterestedly.

"Oh, there is a lot wrong me, dear Maren. This-" Riley points to the hat, "is not one of them."

"I disagree." Maren argues as Riley heads into the kitchen, still visible since there's not really a wall separating the kitchen from the living room. She opens the fridge for a second, then closes it before starting to open cupboards at random. "What are you looking for?"

"Food." She answers. I turn back to the bags but hear the quick opening and closing of cupboard doors. "I swear, there is never anything to eat in this freaking- _ooh_ , what's this?" One final cupboard door closes and she laughs. "What? We never have chocolate bars!" She says in amazement.

"I'm having some." Maren states. Riley must approve of it because Maren picks a piece off when she stands next to her. "You look like you're going on a wilderness hike." She says, noting Riley's large zip up sweater and low bun. The hat adds to the look, though it's common for her to wear one outside of school anyway.

"It's gonna be cold, and we're probably not going to get back before dark either." She holds the bar out to me but I shake my head at the invitation. "I can lend you a jacket if you want." Riley offers.

"I'll be okay."

Hearing her words, I look over my shoulder at her. "In that? Really, Maren?" I shake my head at her hoodie, knowing just as well as she does that the temperature will only drop from now. I zipper up the bag and turn to her as she shrugs. "Fine, freeze then. I don't care." I hand the bag off to Riley.

"Why do I have to take it?" She complains, but puts it over her shoulders anyway.

"Well, I packed it so I'm not carrying it, and if we ask Maren she'll just say no anyway."

Riley and Maren both nod; the latter in approval, Riley in resignation. "I am getting you a jacket though." Riley says to her. She scrunches up the now empty bar wrapper and moves into the kitchen to throw it away.

"Yeah." I agree, pinching the sleeve of Maren's sweater as I walk past, finding that it's thin. "That hoodie isn't even thick. You do know it's almost winter right?"

"Yes, I'm just not a wimp like you guys." She retorts childishly. I turn around and raise my eyebrows warningly at her from the porch, pulling on a sneaker.

Riley comes out of the kitchen looking offended at her comment. "Well, at least we're not _losers_ like you, Maren." She makes an 'L' with her hand and points it at her. I shake my head and almost laugh, noticing her mistake but also knowing Maren will notice it too.

"Wrong hand, genius."

"Is it really?" She takes a look at her hand and laughs after realizing her mistake. "Today is really not my day." She says, still chuckling.

"Is any day your day?" Maren asks, shoving her shoe on without bothering to untie it, hence why the back is collapsing and worn out.

"Where are you guys going?" I hear Maren let out a a quiet curse as Stephanie comes up the hall, looking uninterestedly at our clothing and packed bag. The older girl looks just as disappointed to see Maren, though any foul remark either one of them could have made regarding the others presence is interrupted as Riley answers first.

"Selling tickets. We're aiming for second place." She replies proudly. Stephanie acknowledges her with a quick raising of her eyebrows before disappearing into the kitchen. "Anyway, what jacket do you want?" Riley swings open the door of a small closet in the porch, gesturing grandly to the tightly packed assortment of coats in the small space.

"It doesn't matter really." Maren shrugs, shoving on her other sneaker just as un-carefully as the first.

"Okay then, here." Riley pulls a blue flannel coat that looks a couple sizes too big for Maren out her her collection. I snort at the selection and the look on Maren's face is telling of her disagreement.

"I'm not wearing that."

"Oh come on, it's the only thing that'll go over the hoodie." Riley defends.

"It's also the only thing that seems to have made it through whatever time machine you're keeping in there." Maren counters, looking the piece of clothing up and down with widened eyes at its state. I notice the fraying fabric and faded, scuffed-out colours too. Seriously, this thing looks a couple of decades old at least.

"Hey! Plaid is coming back."

"Not that kind of plaid." I say in mock horror, shaking my head. This situation here is a prime example of why Riley doesn't stray from an outfit of hoodies and jeans, and although Maren's style is similar, they have very different reasons for it. Maren's style sense is called 'because it's comfortable' whereas Riley's style sense is labeled somewhere around the word 'nonexistent'.

"If you like it so much, you wear it." Maren challenges. I think the only reason she agrees is because she wants to get out the door. They quickly switch jackets, and as Riley is putting her arms through the sleeves, Stephanie calls out from the kitchen.

"Riley, have you seen a chocolate bar around? I bought one for myself today and I can't remember where I put it."

Riley's eyes widen and her arm freezes mid motion, the coat sleeve hanging halfway off her arm. I press my lips together to stifle a laugh.

"No, I... uh... yeah, nope. Didn't see anything." Riley mumbles, now making a faster effort at getting her coat on.

"You sure?" Stephanie calls out.

"We didn't see your stupid bar." Maren replies loudly, sparing Riley from her terrible lying attempts as she shoves on a pair of converse. Stephanie grumbles something incoherent and I can hear the opening and closing of cupboard doors, much like earlier. Suddenly the sounds stop and a pause is audible.

"Why is the wrapper in the garbage?" Stephanie's voice is louder this time, more demanding.

"Uh, were gonna head out, Steph. See you later!" Riley calls quickly, then whispering quietly to us, "Run."

"Riley!"

- _Page Break-_

"Alright, that's five booklets down." I say as we walk away from probably the twentieth door we've hit this evening.

"Only three hundred more to go." Maren notes dryly. I roll my eyes, stuffing one booklet of ticket stubs into a pouch in the bag, still on Riley's back as we continue walking.

"Glad to see we're all taking an optimistic approach." I mutter, closing up the bag. Maren just shrugs, Riley however turns around with a grin. I don't think her cheeriness is appreciated by Maren.

"Did someone say optimism?" She asks with mock enthusiasm, walking backwards in front of us. Maren doesn't look amused, probably already annoyed with the excess amount of human interaction she's been forced to put up with today.

"I actually said _optimistic_ -"

"Don't care." Riley interrupts me with that same chipper voice. I let out an amused smile but Maren just raises her eyebrows, that typical 'Maren' disinterest evident on her face. "Come on, _something_ good had to happen today." Riley says, noticing her expression.

"Didn't you have your speech thing today for English?" She asks. Riley's grin disappears so quick it looks like it was never there in the first place. _That_ makes Maren laugh.

"I don't wanna talk about it." Riley mutters, falling in step beside me again. I chuckle.

"That bad?" I ask.

"It's always _that bad_." She she says dejectedly, and it's true. Watching Riley read a speech in front of the class is like watching a toddler struggling to sing the alphabet. She stumbles spectacularly over the entire thing with a red face, and for a few minutes, you forget she's possibly the smartest person in the grade. It doesn't help that English has never been her strong suit. Maren is unsurprisingly great at the speaking part, but often loses marks where the writing is involved, whereas I'm kind of in the average on both parts.

"You know, it sucks that we're not in the same english class anymore. I would have liked to see that." Maren teases.

"I bet you would have." She agrees. "It was probably the worst one yet."

"Oh, I don't know about that. Grade ten was pretty bad."

Riley groans at the reminder. "That entire _grade_ was, _ooft_. Tragic." She closes her eyes and shakes her head in disgust. That time of her life is one of few things that embarrasses her. "Lets just not talk about grade ten. Like ever."

We reach another door and I ring the doorbell, a new booklet already held in my hand. It seems that I've been silently elected as our sort of spokesperson throughout the selling of these things. Maren and Riley only make comments to answer the scattered question or to make slight conversation.

The woman who owns this house buys three tickets, as most people do because it's a better deal. I notice a couple of carved pumpkins sitting on the edge of the house's wooden porch; remnants from Halloween. Riley would have tripped over one if Maren hadn't pulled her out of the way.

"Oh yeah, I forgot to ask how your Halloweens were." She says, then seems to reconsider her question. "Actually, I know you had your date with Joseph, and I'm assuming that went well. So how was your Halloween, Maren?"

"I wanted to rip the doorbell off the side of the house."

"Truly inspiring." I sigh wistfully. Maren cracks a smile and Riley laughs. "How was your Halloween, R?"

"Oh, it was _very_ eventful." She replies, then in an equally flat tone, she adds, "Only one person came into the store the entire night."

"Nice." Maren says, seeming to forget that their enjoyment of solitude are on drastically different levels.

"You wouldn't be saying that if you knew who it was." Riley chuckles. I arch an eyebrow and turn my head toward her at the same time Maren does. Our expressions must looks pretty harsh because she laughs. "Calm down, it was anyone _really_ evil. Just Stanley."

Even though Maren must object to the the statement of Stanley Worthington being anything less than a psychopath, she decides not to voice this opinion.

"Why would Stanley be in there? Isn't he a millionaire is something?" I ask.

"That guy is strange." Maren grumbles before Riley can get out a probably logical explanation. "Seriously, I think I saw him _juggling_ in math today. You should know. I mean, you do sit next to the guy." She huffs.

I smile a little at the prospect of the bulky guy juggling and Riley's smile stretches noticeably. "Yeah, it was just... a thing." She explains vaguely. My eyebrows shoot up at her faraway tone, something in her voice implying that it was more than just 'a thing'.

"What kind of thing?" I ask.

"Just a thing where he told me he'd learn how to juggle."

"And why did he want to learn that?"

"Well, because-" She cuts herself off with a glance up to me, only realizing now that it's the start of an interrogation. "I mean... I don't know. I guess the guy just wanted to learn how to juggle, sheesh." Her eyes now widened a fraction in her explanation, she adjusts the book bag on her back, even though I'm almost sure it never shifted in our short journey down the street. Maren and I send a knowing look to each other as we make our way down a driveway to yet another door.

"Oh, don't look at each other like that." Riley complains.

"Like what?" Maren challenges. I ring the doorbell of the latest house, the ticket book ready in hand.

"Like you think I like him."

The front door opens and all conversation comes to a halt as we greet the man with a polite smile. I go through my spiel and Riley and Maren go through the part where they jump in as necessary. The guy buys six tickets for ten dollars and then we're back to walking away.

"Do you?" I ask.

Riley sighs and glances at Maren, who doesn't seem impressed with where the conversation is going. She seems guilty as she replies, "Yeah."

I chuckle a little because I could see it coming, but Maren is apparently unable to find humour in the situation right now. She presses her lips together in distaste and probably irritation at the admission. Riley sees the look and turns defensive.

"You know what? I have a right. He's hot and he's flirty and his hair looks good. Seriously, how the hell am I supposed to just ignore that? Oh and did I mention he's hot? Because he is, and nobody can deny that."

Maren lifts a shoulder in a shrug. "I can."

"You don't count."

She sighs in disappointment but I only laugh, nodding that I agree with the defence. Seriously, she was right on all accounts. And also judging by the last guy she dated, Stanley is her type.

"I do not approve of this." Maren scolds her. Riley chuckles, amazingly not all that embarrassed about her admission like Maren and I would be. But then, she was always the one who would openly gush over a some popular celebrity, or fan herself dramatically when the image of her favourite TV show actor came onto the screen. I guess she's never really shared the same humility when it came to talking about her personal interests, so this shouldn't come as much of a surprise.

"Shocker, I would've thought you'd be thrilled." She says sarcastically.

"You know how he treats girls though." Maren says, turning serious now. Riley nods because of course we all know the rumours surrounding the great Stanley Worthington; the player that flits from fling to fling so quickly it's tough to keep track of everyone he's dated.

"But didn't he date that Maddy girl last year for a long time?" I remind her, hoping that Maren can see he has some sort of good track record.

"Yeah, and when they broke up she left town." She dismisses.

"I remember that." Riley admits. Everyone remembers that. When they broke up, that girl didn't come to school for weeks before she moved completely. Although, I don't actually recall Stanley coming during that time either. Now, I know that you can't believe all the rumours you hear, but Stanley doing something that caused a girl to skip town definitely isn't the most insane thing to imagine.

We approach another house. This time it's a young woman who answers. She buys three tickets, finishing off our current booklet. I put the ticket stubs in Riley's backpack when we start walking again.

"You _should_ be careful where he's involved." I advise as I zip up the bag once more. Riley only shrugs, not seeming excited about the prospect of starting a relationship.

"I don't need to be careful. It's not going to happen anyway." She says.

"Wait, you're not going to do anything about it?" I ask. She shakes her head, easily dismissing her feelings.

"God no, I'm not stupid. It's a crush, it'll pass."

"You sure?" Maren says sceptically.

"He _is_ kind of your type." I agree, remembering her boyfriend from a couple of years ago.

"That was grade _ten_." She groans. "Seriously, you guys don't need to worry. You're acting like I'm completely in love with him, like I'm gonna go up to him and say, 'oh Stanley I love you so much, please put a kid in me!'."

I would laugh at the absurdity of statement if it wasn't for Maren's next remark. "Wouldn't be the first time."

Riley gasps and I press a fist to my mouth to muffle a surprised laugh. "That. Was. Grade. _Ten_!" She insists. She lifts a flannel covered arm to point around me at Maren, who's failing at stifling her amusement. I know Riley isn't actually offended though. We've all had lengthy discussions about the mistake that was her previous boyfriend, and it's all pretty much a big joke now. "And I did not say those words. If anything it was _him_ begging me-"

"Alright, we do not need to have this conversation in the middle of the street." I interrupt with amusement at the very immature- or maybe too mature- argument. I push Riley's arm down to its previous position while a grin starts to fight its way onto her face.

"She brought it up." She says childishly. "And seriously, I have more sense now, you know? I've grown. Like... spiritually or something."

"Well, you obviously haven't grown physically." Maren says flatly, but she has a smirk on her face.

"Ha ha." Riley says sarcastically, though obviously amused. "I bet you're really proud of yourself for making fun of me twice in under a minute." Maren shrugs like 'a little' and Riley shakes her head in disappointment, laughing nonetheless. We reach another door and I ring the doorbell.

When the man who answers the door buys one ticket Maren sighs on the way back to the sidewalk. "Alright, how many of these fuckers do we have left?"

"Well, we started out with thirty-six and we've sold seven." I say.

Maren makes a short sound in her throat. A growl would actually be more accurate. "Great. And we've only been out here an hour."

"Oh come on, you're always so cranky." Riley complains somehow brightly. "Seriously, things can only get better from here."

The next house doesn't buy any tickets.

 _-Page Break-_

"And that's twenty." I open up the bag and put another booklet of ticket stubs into the pouch, already full with all of the others we've managed to sell. Beside me, Maren groans.

"Yeah, that's also how many minutes I have left to live if I don't eat something soon." She mutters dramatically.

Her comment is funny, and I might laugh if I wasn't so tired. Even Riley who laughs at everything only gives a short chuckle at the joke. Seriously, it's now seven-o-clock and we've been on our feet for four hours, plus a full day of school. Riley's subdivision is bigger than I thought. There's a soreness in my legs, and my throat is dry from talking so much. And on top of that, now that it's dark outside it's getting harder to see between the largely spaced streetlights due to the early night. Yes, we're all tired.

I look around the road, my eyes following the glow of streetlights as we continue walking down the main street. There's no sidewalk here so gravel crunches under our shoes with every step. It's about the only thing making sound now since our talking has been limited to random comments and progress reports. We exhausted from talking by the end of hour number two.

As I notice the houses and the trees lining the sides of the road, I realize we're near my house. I'm immediately relieved, not only because food is a couple of minutes away, but also because we won't have to backtrack all the way back to Riley's house.

"We should have supper at my house and I'll drive you guys home after." I suggest. "We're almost there anyway." My words are met with immediate agreements, along with a silent conclusion to skip all of the houses on the way to mine. We've sold enough tickets today.

The night is cool, and I can tell we've all noticed it. Riley's hands have taken permanent residence in the pockets of her jacket and despite the fact Maren would never admit it, I can she's grateful for the extra layer she has on. It's actually close to freezing tonight, which is common for the beginning of November. I've always liked the cold anyway, so I'm glad about the threads of chill in the air, and the leaves turned colour on the trees. It means winter is coming, and winter is my favourite season.

We're all excited when the red siding of my house comes into view a couple minutes later. We make our way up the walkway and I search the bag for my keys, only to remember it's not actually my school bag. Mine is left back at Riley's house, and so is Maren's, which means I don't actually have a way to get into the house.

"Please don't tell me you don't have your keys." Maren says as I zip the bag back up. Her eyebrows are raised despite her eyes actually being partly closed; the picture of tired disappointment.

I don't reply and instead knock on the door as a response, displaying that her guess was correct. Maren sighs, Riley laughs. It doesn't take long for the door to open and Ella stands in the doorway, moving out of the way when she sees us.

"What did I tell you about answering the door when I'm not home?" I chide with a sigh, struggling between being grateful she let us in, and worrying that she hasn't been following my rules.

"Are you kidding me, Mar? Next time should I just leave you outside?" Ella laughs as we shuffle in, pushing off our shoes almost in unison. "It was just you guys." She defends.

I pull off my coat and put it on a hanger while fixing her with a look, which probably comes off as more exhausted than chastising. "Doesn't matter. I could have been a burglar."

She only raises her eyebrows at me with a slight smirk as she leans against the wall by the porch, obviously only finding amusement in my warning. She'll be a rebellious teenager, I'm sure of it.

"Oh, please." Riley scoffs as she struggles to slide her heel out of one of her sneakers. "If _anyone_ was going to be a criminal here, it would be Maren." She says. Maren gives her light shove, to which Riley almost falls to the floor due to being off balance already. She points a finger at Maren after recovering. "See? That was assault."

Ella laughs and I let out a smile at their antics. Maren rolls her eyes and mutters something along the lines of "I'll show you assault", which only makes Riley grin. It seems all of our moods have improved drastically upon our arrival of a warm house. I'm happy Mom is working late tonight, or she might complain about the noise, which is sure to escalate. I turn from my friends while they continue to bicker and start making my way into the kitchen. A shoulder nudges my upper arm and I realize Ella is walking next me.

"Don't worry. I looked out the window before I opened the door." She says, amusement in her tone. I breath out a short chuckle -more like a sigh - and she laughs at my concern.

"Thank you." I say.

"No problem." She waits a beat before continuing. "You know, you can leave me home by myself more often. I'm basically a teenager."

"You're a preteen." I reply.

"Even better! What better time for me to start learning independence?" She looks up at me with an impish grin, but I just look away and shake my head after a tight smile. I wanted independence too some time ago, but then it came all at once.

We don't need to continue the discussion because I stop at the archway of the kitchen, the mess of papers and binders on the table making my steps falter. "What is all that?"

Ella's grin falls into a grimace. "Mostly science, but I have a math worksheet to do."

I raise my eyebrows at her and she smiles again, but it's guilty this time. Amusement laces my sigh. "Do your homework, El." I put my hand on the side of her head and give it a light push in the direction of her seat, now surrounded by papers. She groans and drops down in the seat while I make my way to the fridge, hoping there's some leftovers in there.

"Did someone say math?" Riley's cheerful voice comes into the kitchen, followed by Maren's slight huff of what I can only take to be disgust. The former takes off her hat presses it onto Ella's head she she walks past, giving it a final tug so the thing ends up sideways on my sister's head. I chuckle at how ridiculous it looks.

Ella grins and tries to fix it but Maren reaches over from the other side of the table, snatching it off her head before she can touch it. "Nobody should ever wear such a disease." She says.

As if to prove her point, she shoves the cap back on Riley's head, but pulls the bib down roughly so her face is covered. Riley, who was about to take a seat, stumbles into the chair with an exaggerated cry of anguish. I laugh along with Ella, and Maren looks pleased at what she's done. Riley takes the hat off and lays it on one of Ella's many papers.

Maren and her both take a seat at the table without a moment of hesitation. We could probably put their names on those spots judging by how many times they've sat in those exact seats over the years. All of our houses just serve as a second living space for each other, and it's been that way for as long as I can remember. It's a normal thing between us, but quite a big deal when you think about what it means. How important do you have to be in someone's life to have your own spot on their couch, your own coat hanger in a porch that's not yours, your own seat at another family's kitchen table?

"This your homework?" I hear Riley ask, followed by the crinkling of paper. I scan inside the fridge and am relieved to see the remnants of a fajita filling I made the other day packed into a series of plastic containers, meaning I don't have to cook anything. I'm pulling them out when I hear, "Want me to do it for you?"

I glance over the refrigerator door at Riley, fixing her with the same look I gave Ella when we walked through the door. "I would prefer if Ella did her own homework."

"There's only a few questions left and she's done the rest right." Riley defends, paying no attention to my warning as her eyes scan over the sheet.

"A few questions." I repeat. I arch an eyebrow at the second side of the sheet that Riley hasn't noticed yet. "Flip it over." She does and her eyebrows shoot up.

"Mar, I have science to do and I already know how to do all of the math stuff." Ella interjects, gesturing at the sheet in Riley's hand before clasping her own together, like she's some kind of professional.

"Well, how can I argue with that logic?"

"Ugh." Ella complains at my flat tone, flapping a relenting hand at me, the other now containing a pencil. I smile and turn to start un-lidding the couple of plastic containers I've pulled out of the fridge. A hushed conversation picks up when my back is turned -definitely involving the exchange of homework responsibility- but I don't say anything, allowing them to think I can't hear.

"So, how did you manage to stack up this much sh- stuff to do?" Maren asks Ella after I set the microwave. I hear her near miss with a swear word, but I appreciate her effort to filter her words around Ella.

"Probably procrastination." I say, not surprised to see Riley doing Ella's math sheet when I turn around.

"Ah, shouldn't do that." Maren says to Ella, and I'm glad she's said it and not me. Ella basically thinks Maren is the coolest person on the planet -as a lot of people do anyway- so she might be more inclined to listen to her.

"Like _you_ don't procrastinate." Ella replies skeptically.

Maren chuckles, grabbing a spare pencil and twirling it between her fingers easily and seamlessly without even looking. And _that_ -the ease and confidence in which she does everything- is only one reason why her coolness factor exceeds normal levels. "Do as I say, not as I do."

Riley lets out a short laugh, easily dividing her attention between the conversation and the worksheet. "Ain't that the truth."

"Well, I'm a much better role model than you." Maren scoffs, crossing her arms.

"In your dreams maybe." Riley replies smugly.

Honestly, between the three of us, I'm not sure who the best role model for Ella would be. Riley is obviously a good example for academics, but she procrastinates a lot and so does Maren, whereas I like to get my work done early. And while Maren may struggle a little with academics, her drive for things she cares about is undeniable, not the mention her confidence, which is a trait Riley and I lack somewhat. I don't know who would be the best example, but between the three of us, I think we've got all areas covered.

"May I remind you of grade ten?"

Riley's eyes flash up from the paper and the smug look transfers to Maren's face. "You may not." She says quietly.

Ella, who wasn't paying much attention to her science anyway, now puts down her pencil all together, leaning forward with peeked interest. "What happened in grade ten?" She asks eagerly.

Maren feigns surprise. "Oh, have we neglected to tell you about Riley's rebellious phase?" If she was sitting normally in her seat her back would be facing me, but she has the seat turned sideways so I have no trouble seeing the smirk she's giving Ella.

" _You_ had a rebellious phase?" Ella asks Riley skeptically, as though our friend's enhanced focus on the worksheet wasn't evidence enough. "Did you do drugs or something?"

Riley glances up at me, like she's asking my permission to tell her. I shrug and she sighs, apparently angry she's allowed. "I only smoked cigarettes." She says. I raise an eyebrow at her. She catches the look, adding, "And pot."

"Oh, well that's not too bad." Ella replies indifferently. Then, to my horror, "I'd actually like to try pot one day."

My mouth drops open and Maren leans the side of her head into her fist to hide her grin from Ella, who sits across from her. Instead she looks at me and starts chuckling silently at my expression.

"Thanks, that's what every older sister wants to hear." I mutter. The microwave beeps and I turn around to get the container out.

"I meant when I'm old enough." Ella adds hastily.

I turn back with raised eyebrows and it must look pretty harsh because Riley covers up a grin with her cap, laughing into it.

"That's not comforting." I say, putting the other container in the microwave and setting the time. "You're twelve, El. You shouldn't be thinking about weed."

"She's right." Riley cuts in, taking the cap down and tapping Ella's head with it. I can already tell she's going to lighten things up. "You know, some people call it _the devil's lettuce_." She waggles her eyebrows and Ella bursts out laughing while Maren rolls her eyes, but a laugh is quick to come from her too.

"The devil's lettuce? Really." She says.

"Oh you don't like that on? Would you rather _the magic cabbage_?"

I laugh too this time, crossing my arms and leaning against the counter. "That is equally terrible."

Maren nods. "I bet the person who made it up was high."

"Probably." Riley chuckles, already gone back to doing Ella's homework with speed none of us could accomplish with the subject.

Maren rests her chin on her fist, looking at Riley a little seriously now. "How is it actually? Like is it fun?"

Riley looks up, confused by her interest but less embarrassed about being asked a serious question. "Trust me, the only noteworthy thing I did while I was high was eat my body weight in cheezies." She shakes her head, staring at a random spot on the table. "I don't even _like_ cheezies."

Ella lets out a giggle and Maren grins. I have a feeling she asked the question for the purpose of satisfying Ella's curiosity, and I'm glad Riley decided to recall a bad memory instead of a good one.

Hearing our amusement, Riley looks up from her random stare into the distance. "I threw up my _guts_ after." She lifts the cap again to cover her eyes, as if not allowing herself to relive the memory. I join Ella in laughing as she shakes her head under the hat. When she pulls it down, her expression looks like she's witnessed something traumatic. "You think I'm joking but I'm serious. I'm pretty sure I flushed at _least_ one unimportant organ down the toilet that night. It was..." She takes a sharp breath in. "Oh my God, it was _horrific_."

With the way her unfocused eyes stare into the distance, you would swear images of war were flashing through her head. Her expression paired with the story is enough to have us all laughing. Even Maren, who doesn't wholeheartedly laugh at much or too often, leans her head back in stitches. I have to lean back on the counter and press a hand to my mouth to muffle the sound, not that it helps much. Riley closes her eyes, leaning her elbows on the table and pressing her forehead into the heels of her hands, but she's finally grinning too.

"You're an _idiot_." Maren chortles, nudging Riley's leg with her foot.

"You have no idea how aware I am of that fact."

I hear a beeping noise and it takes me a moment to realize the microwave is finished. I turn and take out the food, placing it on the counter with the other one. "Well, supper is ready." I chuckle.

"I'm not sure I want to eat now after _that_ story." Maren says, recovered now but still grinning. I come over and lay the containers down on the table. She arches an eyebrow. "Oh, and it looks like throw up too."

"It's fajita mix." I roll my eyes. It's only orange because of what I out into it to make it a bit spicy.

"It looks good, Mar." Riley stands up to get some drinks while I pass around some plates and fajita shells.

We decide to just eat on top of all of the papers, and Ella doesn't object, undoubtedly in no rush to get a good start in at her homework. Riley finishes Ella's math sheet while she's eating and hands it over proudly. We talk about random things; how Ella is doing in school, ticket selling, test grades.

Ella is every bit as involved in the conversation as the rest of us, as she always is when we hang out together. I think she likes having people who are older than her not treating her like a kid. I don't usually treat her like a kid either, but I know it happens sometimes. It's just instinct to look out for her. Sometimes I fear I do too much for her and think that maybe I should let her fix her own supper, or not harp on her about her schoolwork. Maybe I should give her some of the independence she wants. But as I look over her multitude of unfinished worksheets and her messy doodles on the edges of paper, I can't help but be happy that she's not as grown up as she would like to think.

By the time we're done eating, it's eight-o-clock. Even though Mom should be home anytime now, Maren and Riley both know they can stay longer. They don't though. Maren jokes about it being a school night, but Riley actually does needs to go home because she didn't take her medication with her, or in her words, "The happy pills have already been waiting an hour". She's been on anti-depressants since the beginning of ninth grade so she's in a pretty good habit of taking them on time now, which is usually seven in the morning and the evening, twelve hours apart. But since she's been taking them for so long, she's also not too worried if she's an hour late.

"How nice we are." Maren says when we're in the porch, pulling on our shoes. "Coming into your home, stealing your food and leaving again." She smirks but I know it's her way of saying thanks.

"Your welcome." I say. Riley is the only one out of all of us that bothers with putting on a jacket, but I think it's because she has to take Maren's too.

"So, Ella. What have you learned today?" Maren calls into the kitchen where my sister is still doing her homework, or rather, trying to subtly avoid it.

"Don't smoke pot?" Ella asks.

"Don't eat cheezies." Maren corrects. Ella laughs and Maren smirks at Riley, who grimaces before admitting that she hasn't been able to eat one since.

They say goodbye to Ella and we all go out to the car. Maren sits in the back since she's the first stop and Riley in the front. As I pull out of the driveway, Maren seems to have a realization.

"We've only sold twenty ticket booklets and it took four hours." She says, seemingly out of nowhere. "We need to sell a hundred booklets."

"That's twenty hours of selling tickets." Riley adds.

Maren sighs and I can picture the annoyed look on her face. "Twenty hours of walking and one hundred booklets of tickets to sell. All for a hockey game."

Now that she points it out, I can see that it's pretty stupid. It must have been what she's been thinking the entire time.

"Those better be some good fucking seats."

 **Hey guys, I know there wasn't much couple action going on there but there will be in the next chapter, I promise. Anyway, that's it from me, hope you enjoyed and tell me what you think in the reviews :)**


	17. Chapter 17

**Hey guys!**

 **I'm back and I know I haven't updated in a while, but I'll just give you warning in advance that I may not be able to update sometime in the next couple of months since exams are coming up and I have to study for those. Of course I will still try to get a chapter up regardless (miracles can happen) but I just wanted to warn you beforehand about a prolonged absence in case it should happen.**

 **I'm posting a three in the morning again so I'll have more time to check for editing mistakes tomorrow, but I felt that I had to get something up for you guys.**

 **Reviews:**

 **Livia- I was planning on going as far as graduation with the story, yes. If you guys are still interested in it by that time, it's the least I can do :) thanks for the review!**

 **Guest- Yeah, we will figure out what went on with Riley and Stanley soon. Glad you like the story and thanks for reviewing!**

 **Thank you for everyone else who reviewed. I feel like I don't give enough credit to y'all for still reviewing despite my crappy updating. Just know that I appreciate the support to all ends, and thank you for all of your patience!**

 **Anyway, that's it. Read on and I hope you enjoy :)**

 **Marina**

It's going to rain.

That's the first thing I notice as I step outside of the school. The clouds are dark and the sky beyond is a murky grey, casting everything in a dull glow. The dreary day seems to be reflected in the unusually quiet atmosphere around me as hundreds of high school students continue on their subdued journey to whatever transportation they take home. I don't like rainy days either, but I can't deny that it's peaceful.

"You haven't even sold any tickets yet?!"

A familiar voice breaks the reverie and I notice several heads turn in the direction of the sound. I let out a tired breath. It _has_ been a while since Maren and Stanley actually argued for real. I should have known the peace would be short-lived.

"Sorry to tell you this, Sweetheart, but some people have other things to do." Stanley's voice is only slightly quieter, but it carries better due to the deeper tone. I look behind me and my eyes find Stanley before Maren. They're walking toward the parking lot like the rest of us, but on the grass instead of the walkway, to avoid the crowd I'm guessing. I start to make my way over as Maren stops, causing Stanley to reluctantly halt his journey too.

"Better things to do?" Maren repeats. "This was _your_ bright idea in the first place. We've had a week so far, you've had plenty of time to start."

Stanley sighs, for once looking tired instead of cocky or smug. "Look, if we do what I have planned, we can have all the tickets sold by tonight." He replies, completely ignoring Maren's reprimand.

I start to wonder what his plan is until I get bumped from the side, sending me stumbling a few steps. Before I can decide if I'm at fault or not, two hands grab my shoulders as if to steady me. I was almost recovered anyway so they don't help much in the way of balance, but when I look up to see they belong to Joseph, I no longer care. He's looking over my head and in the direction I assume the person who ran into me went. I'm surprised by the serious expression on his face.

"He didn't even apologize." Joseph says, more to himself than me.

I shrug, indifferent. The collision was probably equal parts my fault anyway due to my lack of attention. "It's okay. On the bright side, you had some good timing." I say, referring to his intervention.

His smile is a more familiar expression, and it quickly appears, bright as always. "Only the best for Her Majesty." He teases. I roll my eyes and he chuckles, dropping one of his hands from my shoulder and placing the other on the back of my neck while putting a quick kiss on my head. He does it so casually, but it doesn't lessen that flipping feeling in my stomach.

"Hey." He greets as his thumb rubs a gentle circle on the back of my neck. A smile has crept onto my face without me knowing. I can only hope my expression is as casual as his gestures.

"I think the conversation is past the point of 'hey'." I point out.

"Never."

I let out a small laugh at his lopsided, though slightly defiant grin. He looks like he might say more until he hears the arguing going on to his left. He sees who it is and arches a confused eyebrow at me.

"Maren is mad because Stanley hasn't started selling his tickets yet." I explain in response to his silent question.

"He hasn't?" Joseph says in surprise, looking over at them again. Stanley is saying something now, but it seems their conversation has become more civil because I can't clearly hear his words. "Now _I'm_ mad." I highly doubt his words are accurate considering the slight smile at the corner of his lip. Joseph puts a hand on my back, the gentle pressure guiding me to follow him as we make our way toward the argument.

Stanley sees us coming over Maren's shoulder and he gives us a lazy wave. "You never started selling tickets yet?" Joseph asks, taking away his hand when we stand facing him.

"You haven't?" John suddenly joins our group, making Stanley sigh at the amount of accusations he's getting hit with.

"No." He admits. "Now before you get all wound up, I have a plan." He says carefully, raising his eyebrows at Maren in way that makes it clear that she's already shut down all of his attempts of explanation. She stares back at him with the same expression.

"Enlighten us." She says flatly.

Stanley rolls his eyes. "Okay, how many books of tickets have you guys sold already?" He asks. After a moment of thought, we all answer with our respective amounts. Turns out we've sold 74 booklets between all of us, excluding Stanley of course. It's actually pretty impressive since we've only been at it for a week. He nods. "Alright, so if we all make a group effort today, we can get the rest sold in like, one hour."

"We're not cleaning up your mess for you, if that's what you think." John reasons. Maren doesn't show it, but I'm sure she's pleased that someone agrees with her point of view. I also think he should have sold some tickets by now, but I'm not exactly offended. I saw it coming actually.

"Come on, we could get it all done today and then chill for week. No more ticket selling." Stanley says. He looks around, and in seeing he's not persuading anyone, he adds, "And I can get you all takeout for supper."

"Sold." Joseph sticks out his hand and Stanley shakes it with a smirk, apparently sealing the deal. He looks at John with an expectant smile, who's eyes glance at Maren for a second before he uncrosses his arms and shakes Stanley's hand.

"There we go. Now that is what I call teamwork, huh?" He shakes my hand and looks at Maren for agreement.

"I'm not shaking your hand." She says. "But I'll do it for the food." He takes his hand away and settles for giving her a wink. I'm willing to bet that getting Maren's agreement was the reason he was so civil earlier.

"Why are you guys... congregated here?" Riley appears next to John, looking confused at Stanley's smirk, Maren's scowl and Joseph's grin. "Did I miss something?"

"Nope." Stanley replies immediately. He holds out his hand with a charming smile. "Put 'er there, Pierce." She eyes him suspiciously, but shakes his hand anyway, making his grin widen. "Alright, I'll see you guys in a couple minutes." Stanley walks away and John and Joseph go with him so I assume they're carpooling.

"I definitely missed something." Riley says. Maren sighs, spinning her car keys on her finger.

"I never thought I'd be driving myself to Stanley Worthington's house." She mutters.

- _Page Break-_

"I'm telling you, it's going to rain." Riley warns as we get out of the car, now parked in Stanley's driveway.

"Probably, but the forecast didn't call for it." I say.

"No, it will." Maren agrees, looking up at the sky. "I can feel it." I roll my eyes a little but neither Riley or I challenge her hunch. Maren's 'feelings' involving the weather are correct more times than not. She's weird like that.

"Ladies, fancy seeing you here!" Stanley jumps out of his truck after parking a little too close to Maren, which she was unhappy about. He doesn't seem to have a plan as he stands on the other side of the car, just contently smiling at his remark.

Thankfully, John comes around from the other side of the truck, looking much more put together. "Alright, I was thinking we could split up in partners and each group will take a street." He explains. I look around us and notice that there's a conveniently located three-way intersection close by. "Who wants to sort the tickets?"

I take the job only because I want to get this done quick. Riley, Joseph and Stanley volunteer their school bags as ticket holders, and I work on getting an even amount of tickets into each bag, laying them on the hood of Maren's car.

"Hey."

Joseph's voice makes me jump a little, apparently so focused on my task that I failed to hear him come up beside me. When I glance at him I find a grin and a mischievous glint in his eyes that tells me he had probably planned that.

"Wanna be partners?" He asks. He perches on the edge of the car hood, crossing his arms and leaning back in a relaxed posture, watching me as I go about my business.

"Considering who your are, I guess I'll let you tag along." I say with a slight smile.

"It would be an honour to sell tickets with you, Marina of the Sea." He says grandly. He grins when I roll my eyes. "Plus, it'll probably help sales to have some eye candy on the team." He teases.

I put extra focus into the task at hand as I feel a blush creep into my cheeks. I do glance at him though. He has that lopsided smile on his face, his mess of hair matching the brightness in his eyes completely. And when he chuckles, pushing a hand into the pocket of his jeans, I know that if either of us were to be the 'eye candy' in this relationship, it would be him.

"Almost done over there?" Maren calls. I nod and start zipping up all the bags, packed with school books and tickets alike. It didn't take me too long. Since our goal is to sell 102 booklets, we have 28 left to go. It means two teams get 9 booklets each and one team gets 10.

"Someone is going to have to sell an extra booklet." I say.

Joseph raises his hand. "My vote is for Stanley."

"Mine too." Maren says.

"Hey, I'm on his team too." John defends. "I think we should have an even draw or something." He suggests.

Maren chuckles. "No, you're guilty by association." She looks at me. "Give them the extra."

Stanley oddly doesn't object as I stuff the extra tickets into his bag. I guess he's trying to make up for all the work he didn't do, or maybe he just doesn't want to cause a fuss. Either way, I only have to sell 9 so I'm happy.

I distribute the bags and we walk to the end of the driveway, looking at the intersection that's not too far away. "Alright so you guys-" John indicates Joseph and I, pointing in the direction of one of the streets, "go that way. We'll go this way, and Maren and Riley, you guys can go that way." He gives us the directions of our desired streets.

"Hey, you ladies sure you'll be alright by yourselves?" Stanley teases Riley and Maren as we go our separate ways.

Riley turns around, walking backwards with a laugh. "Maren punches things for fun. We'll be fine."

Maren rolls her eyes. "I punch punching bags, for _exercise_." She clarifies.

"Yeah, but you're one of those weird people that think exercise is fun."

Stanley's eyebrows furrow. "Exercise _is_ fun." He says. Maren frowns, obviously agreeing but not happy about it. Their similarities are getting increasingly evident, and I'm sure Maren has picked up on that.

"Alright, lets go." She orders to Riley shortly.

 _-Page Break-_

"This is a great arrangement. I love it." Joseph says cheerfully as we make our way down the sidewalk to another house. The arrangement he's referring to is that we agreed he would do most of the talking. I'm glad.

"Well, you are _very_ good at talking." I tease. He tilts his head a little in his animated version of pretending to think.

"Do I detect an insult?" He asks.

"No, you detect a fact." I correct. He stays silent for a moment, causing me to glance at him. He has his eyes narrowed.

"You better watch yourself, Sea girl." He says in a way I think is supposed to be threatening. It has the complete opposite effect. How strained it looks for him to make that face is funny. I must not be hiding my amusement very well because he sighs. "Marina, I'm trying to be scary here." He whines.

"You might have a problem then. I don't think you have the capability." I chuckle.

"And you do?" He challenges. I raise my eyebrows at him, fixing him with the same look Riley once called the 'if you forgot to defrost that chicken so help me God' expression. His eyes widen comically. "Point taken."

We knock on a door and do our little explanation. The owner of the house buys three tickets and finishes off our seventh booklet. It's pretty good considering we've only been out here an hour. We shouldn't be too much longer.

"You know, I think I would've actually liked to win the trip to the ski hill." Joseph muses as we walk away.

"Oh. Do you know how to ski?" I ask.

"No." He answers. I laugh a little and he just gives a signature cheerful shrug. "But if I was going to learn something like that, I would choose snowboarding." He decides.

"Why?"

"Well... snowboarders always look cooler."

"Oh, of course." I nod thoughtfully and with mock seriousness. Joseph picks up on my voice and looks down at me with suspicion, huffing when I can't fight a grin.

"They do!" He defends. I roll my eyes a little.

"If I was going to learn how to ski or snowboard, looking cool would be the least of my worries."

"Oh really?" He challenges. "Please tell me, Your Highness, what are your other immense concerns?" He asks. He puts his hand on his chin in mock thought, as though he actually thinks finding reasons to worry is going to be a struggle for me. _Please_.

I start counting them off on my fingers. "Tearing a muscle. Not being able to stop. Plowing into someone else. Falling. Falling and breaking a bone. Falling and breaking my _neck_." The scenarios come easy. "I could get hooked in the ski lift and it could tear my arm off-"

Joseph's disbelieving snort cuts me off. "Are you kidding me?" He laughs, tilting his head back a little. It comes so easy for him, part of what makes it so infectious. Still, I somehow manage to keep my amusement down to a stubborn grin as he looks back down at me, shaking his head. "You're worried that the ski lift is going to nab your arm and gruesomely rip it from your body? You've got to be joking."

"Hey, you're the one who asked me what could happen."

"I didn't know it was going to get so dark!" He exclaims and I finally let out my laugh, feeling that it's impossible to stifle it any longer.

"I wonder what the chances of that happening are though." I muse. Joseph looks at me out of the corner of his eye, and can't help another chuckle.

"Probably about the same breaking your neck." He says, playfully nudging me with his shoulder before knocking on another door.

The owner of this house only buys one ticket, and then we're back to walking away. Joseph still has that teasing grin on his face, something that tells me he's going to continue to bug me about the previous topic. I realize that I don't mind it at all.

"You know what? You're a compulsive worrier." He accuses.

"I worry about what needs to be worried about." I defend stubbornly.

"Which is everything."

I sigh. "That's not true."

He grins and points a finger at me. "It is so true." I roll my eyes and push his hand away, but he just wraps the other one around my shoulder, pulling me to his side with a chuckle. "I bet if you saw a pothole in the road you'd be worried about it turning into a sinkhole." He teases.

"Well, that _is_ how sinkholes form." I reply.

"See? I knew it!" He says triumphantly. He lets go of my shoulder but instead grabs my hand, weaving our fingers together between us.

"You know what? I think it's fine to worry. At least I'm not too relaxed." I counter, trying to ignore the feeling of his thumb running circles on the back of my hand. He raises his eyebrows at me, I think trying to achieve the same expression I had earlier. But there's still a tug at the corner of his mouth so he fails miserably. His eyes are too bright for him to look anything but cheerful anyway.

"Marina of the Sea, are you implying that _I_ am too relaxed?"

"Yes."

He seems a bit surprised by my straightforward answer, but amused all the same. "How so?" Coincidentally, he starts swinging our joined hands together between us as he says this. If that action doesn't prove my point, I don't know what will.

"You think nothing can go wrong, ever. Like the world is made for you." I say. I shake my head, seriously at a loss of how somebody could be so optimistic. I will admit, it's refreshing to see someone who always sees the best in everything, but it's also just another thing that concerns me.

"Is that a bad thing?" He asks, that confused puppy look on his face. I want to say yes. I want to tell him how I don't want to see the day when something happens to him that his naivety wouldn't let him prepare for. But that's dark.

"No." I say instead. "No, it's not."

Another house. Six tickets this time. Joseph looks at me.

"Let me ask you one question." He says, and I'm struck by his sudden seriousness. "If the world isn't made for us, why are we here?"

I arch an eyebrow at him. "That's awfully philosophical of you." I say, then shrug. "In biology our main purpose is basically just to reproduce. But I don't think that's the answer you're looking for." I smile wryly and he chuckles.

"No, not really." He admits. He waits a beat before continuing, seeming to think over his words. "I think the world is what you make it." He decides.

"That's a nice thought." I say, a slight smile on my face at the idea. He studies me for a moment.

"A thought." He repeats. "But you don't actually believe it." His tone isn't accusing or harsh. Just curious. "Why?"

"It's easier to be disappointed when you have high expectations."

The explanation comes so easily to me that I start to wonder how long I've had this opinion without voicing it. I look to my side to see the slanted set to Joseph's mouth. "What?" I ask.

"Nothing. It's just... that's dark." He chuckles a little.

"It's realistic." I argue as we reach another house. We finish off our current booklet and I pull another one out of the book bag.

"Why?" Joseph asks. He seems determined to question all of my opinions today.

"I don't know. It just seems like every time you look toward the future, something fails or it gets ruined or someone dies... or something." I shake my head, trying to cover up my surprise at my own words. I hadn't planned to say that last part.

A gentle smile takes over Joseph's face, and I expect him to say something about how quickly the statement escalated, or how negative the thought was. He doesn't. He just shrugs, and it's that light gesture that makes it seem like every problem can be easily fixed. In his mind, it might be the truth.

"Well, I have high hopes." He declares.

"For what?"

"For us." He answers simply, and grins. "And it's okay that you're all dark and twisty, because I have enough positivity for both of us."

I laugh a little at 'dark and twisty' and shake my head. "I'm sure you do, but I don't think it's necessary." I say. "This is something I'm _not_ worried about."

I chuckle as I say it but Joseph's eyebrows shoot up, and it takes that for me to realize what I said. I'm surprised myself to realize that it's not untrue. Because as much as I can say that looking up only lets you down, or that bad things happen when things start to get good, when it comes to him, I'm not not worried. Like Maren and Riley and Ella, Joseph has become a constant.

"By 'this', you mean..." he takes my hand again and lifts them in front of us with raised eyebrows of question. I nod, but his expression doesn't change. "You're not worried about it? Us?"

I feel a smile tug at the corner of my mouth as I nod again, and Joseph grins, giving my hand a squeeze as he starts swinging them with even more enthusiasm. "I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

"It is?" I say in disbelief. I shake my head. "God, I'm a terrible girlfriend."

Joseph laughs. "No you're not. You're amazing just the way you are." He scrunches up his nose, emphasizing the cheesiness of his words. He suddenly puts and arm around my shoulder and squeezes me tight enough emit a squeak from me.

"Those are song lyrics." I accuse. He raises a challenging eyebrow and falls in step in front of me, walking backwards.

"Very meaningful and _inspirational_ song lyrics." He corrects.

I roll my eyes but before I can voice an argument, he stops and presses his lips to mine. The gesture makes my feet stall and apparently everything else too, because my hands don't seem to be working right either. He does that a lot; just kisses me out of nowhere. I hate it because it's partially the surprise that makes my brain turn to static. But then I recover, and my hands find their way to his chest and my brain finds the correct response. And then I don't hate it at all.

He pulls back with a light of mischief in his eyes, and I expect a playful wink or a comment that makes me blush. But he just leans in again, surprising me enough to startle a giggle from me as our lips meet again. I feel him smile too and I want to roll my eyes at his cockiness, but I can't because the weightless feeling on my gut won't let me focus on anything other than the current activity.

Speaking of which, it seems to be going on for a pretty long time time. I certainly don't mind, but I remember that we're in the middle of a sidewalk.

"Joseph." I mumble against his mouth. He pulls back just enough for me to see his raised eyebrows of question. "We shouldn't probably stop. There are people around." I chuckle.

Joseph laughs. "Well, if they're watching us I think that says more about them then it does about us." He jokes, but he presses a quick kiss to the top of my head before he pulls back completely. It's like a habit now, and I'm more than fine with it.

After about thirty more minutes we have all the tickets sold and we make our way back to Stanley's house. The sky is darker now and I keep looking up as we walk, wondering if we'll get caught in the rain or not. I get my answer when we reach the intersection we started from and drops begin to pepper my face. Joseph puts a hand over my head with a shrug as though it's going to do anything against the rain. He abandons the effort once we reach Stanley's driveway and we jog the rest of the way to the door.

When we walk in through the door, the smell of cooked food hits me immediately. I'm hungry but I'm more curious as to how the food is here. Joseph just grins at me. It seems hunger is overpowering his confusion.

We logically make our way to the kitchen first. Sitting on the table is eight containers of rotisserie chicken surrounded by dipping sauce and boxes of fries. Stanley is laying a pile of plates on the table when he sees us enter, smirking at our confusion.

"Took you guys long enough." He says. He gestures to the table. "We've sold all the tickets and picked up takeout."

"But how?" Joseph looks back and forth between Stanley and the food. "You had more books to sell than us."

"I'm not saying being charming is easy, but it sells more tickets." Stanley says. It doesn't exactly answer Joseph's question, but it's halfway there. "Where is Riley and Maren?" He asks.

"I guess they're not back yet." I shrug. Stanley seems indifferent but when John turns from the fridge to lay cans of pop on the table, his eyebrows are tugged in.

"But they only had to sell nine booklets. Shouldn't they be back by now?"

Stanley only shrugs, not seeming to care about much other than food at the moment. "They're probably just slow. I'd say we start eating."

Nobody needs to be told twice. I choose a random chair next to Joseph, and start to eat. I realize it's from a restaurant not too far from here, and it's good.

We're nearly done eating when the door opens again. Maren comes in first with her ponytail dripping and hoodie dark with trapped water. I hide a smile at the scowl on her face. Riley comes inside after, still wet but unsurprisingly more cheerful.

"You girls get caught in the rain?" Stanley teases. Maren looks up from starting to take off her shoes, her glare hard enough to send any person other than Stanley running.

"Your neighbours suck." She mutters to him, roughly kicking off a soggy sneaker. Stanley smirks and leans back in his chair.

"That's not very nice, Sweetheart. Why would you say that?"

"Oh, why would I say that?" She repeats, kicking off her other sneaker with an excess amount of force. "We've gone to about one hundred houses but barely even sold all the tickets because apparently everyone who lives here are just a bunch of cheap bastards."

Stanley smirks wider and I can see John and Joseph trying not to laugh. Riley rolls her eyes as she slides off her shoes with a much more reasonable show of strength.

"Maren is grumpy because we got caught in the rain." She teases.

"No." Maren replies, coming into the kitchen without even showing surprise at the amount of food on the table. "Maren is grumpy because she got caught in the cold."

"Is Maren speaking about herself in the third person?" I ask. She transfers her stern look to me and I chuckle.

"Oh wow. This is a lot of food." Riley seems to have a more appropriate reaction as she comes into the kitchen, choosing one of the only few seats available. Judging by the small amount of spaces at the table, I'm willing to bet there's a proper dining room with a bigger table somewhere else in the house.

"The best team deserves the best food." Stanley says. Maren looks up for a second and I can almost hear her say something like, 'I think you're forgetting that _you're_ on the team'. But then she presses her lips together, stuffing in the comment as she reaches for a box of fries. While Stanley may not be her favourite person, she's respectful enough to not insult somebody who's feeding and housing her.

"We should watch a movie or something after this." Joseph says suddenly, taking a short break from his meal to talk. "You know, in the theatre." He continues eating as though that sentence was completely normal, and our eyes dart to Stanley.

"You have a theatre in here?" Riley asks in disbelief. Stanley nods, but seems unimpressed at the aspect of showing it off. Maybe he's just used to extravagance or maybe he thinks having a home theatre is unnecessary.

"Yeah, Dad is kind of a movie buff. We can go down there after."

 _-Page Break-_

The theatre does not disappoint. I don't think I've ever seen a screen inside a house that is quite as large as the one in front of me now. Underneath it lies a soft carpet, but a darker shade than the rest of the house as far as I can tell. Small couches line the front of the screen in three rows, each one raised higher than the last. And if the professional theatre layout wasn't enough, shelves built into the wall on either side of the TV are filled with a pile of movies that stand taller than the screen.

John casually walks over to the pile, beginning to pick down through the DVDs while Maren, Riley and I stand at the doorway in awe.

"So, What kind of movie do you guys want to watch?" John asks as Joseph makes his way over there too. "There is pretty much everything here but there's more in the storage room if we can't find anything."

The idea that we wouldn't be able to find anything to watch in a collection that size is baffling, but Stanley doesn't seem as impressed. He comes in behind us after lagging behind to grab some drinks, shaking his head.

"Forget the movies." He says. After dropping the selection of soft drinks on one of the small tables around, he goes to stand in front of the shelf on the other side of the TV. It takes me a second to realize that those are in fact games, not movies. Stanley plucks a case from the pile and turns around, holding it up. "Who wants to play Mario Kart?"

Joseph immediately whoops and turns from the movie selection without a moment of hesitation. John shrugs, indifferent, and Stanley looks at us, smirking. "What about you ladies?" He bends down and pulls a wii remote from a drawer in the wall. "Anyone brave enough to challenge the champion?"

It's not surprising that the challenge immediately gets Maren to walk over. I'm pretty sure she takes it as her civic duty to show up overconfident people like Stanley. He offers a remote to Riley and I, and when I shake my head he gives it Riley without waiting for an answer.

"I haven't played before." She protests.

"Ever?" He says in disbelief. "Well now you have to play."

Stanley puts the game in and we all find seats, John and I being the ones who opted not to play. Maren sits on one of the couches and scowls when Stanley sits on the other side, no doubt aiming to annoy her.

"Alright." She says nonchalantly, attaching the nunchuck to her remote. Stanley decides to use the remote as a wheel. "Lets gets this over with."

 **John**

"Ha! Suck it, Wario!"

I watch on the huge screen as Maren's character - Bowser - passes Stanley's with a quick knock to the side of the cart, sending him into a barrier. He grunts and with a strong turn of his remote, propels his character back into the race, now in second place. Meanwhile, a groan sounds from my left, where Riley is aggressively clicking the accelerator button on the remote. Her character - Toad I think - is stuck in the mud after she failed to hit the booster pads.

"And this is why I hate video games." She grumbles, and as far as I can tell, she's not good at them either. She's gotten last place in every race she's participated in. "I mean, look at this. According to _what_ logic would mud cause a vehicle to go this slow?" She shakes her head. "Ridiculous."

"If you hate it so much, why are you playing it?" I laugh.

"I wasn't allowed to have a wii when I was younger. I would like to re-experience my youth." She explains, unable to hide her amusement when she says the second part. "Plus, some practice could never hurt."

"I disagree." Maren says, frowning as Stanley weaves his cart around her. "Something that terrible could never be described as practice."

"Yeah? Well, I hope you lose, Maren."

Maren just shakes her head with a smirk as her character crosses the finish line just before Stanley. He curses and throws the remote next to him on the couch in frustration, obviously not pleased with a second place finish. He looks at Maren and she surprisingly responds by sticking out her tongue at him. He scoffs and looks away.

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't amused by this different side of her; winning and rubbing it in. I've hardly ever seen her cocky like this, because while she's indefinitely confident, she's never boastful. Sometimes she's so calm when she does something good I start to think that she's completely stoic, like she doesn't care about the victory at all. But then there's the times she unintentionally shows me I've got it completely wrong, like when she wins a game of Mario Kart, grins and sticks out her tongue like a child. And I can't help but smile because she enjoys winning just as much as the rest of us, she's just too proud to show it.

"Fifth. Not bad." Joseph says when his character crosses the finish line, leaving Riley to be the only one who hasn't finished yet. Her bike hits a wall when she tries to make a turn and I see her eyes widen a threatening fraction, as though daring the game to slow her down again.

"You chose manual drift didn't you?" Stanley accuses.

"There's multiple types of drifts?" She replies distractedly. She hits another wall. "Okay, is there anyway to die? Like, can I fall off the track and end my suffering?"

"First of all, falling off the track wouldn't kill you, it would just make the race longer. Second, this the _coconut mall_. You can't fall off the track on this one, that's stupid." Maren dismisses. Riley raises a skeptically eyebrow.

"Are you implying that I can't fall off the track just because the map is named after a _nut_?" She asks. Maren gives her an incredulous look and I let out a laugh, as does everyone else. Riley chuckles too and shakes her head. "And you called me stupid." She leans back in her chair, smiling as she continues failing at the game.

Maren just looks at her with her mouth open slightly, eyebrows raised. "Oh my God." She scoffs and crosses her arms. "You know, I wasn't even calling you stupid, I was calling the idea stupid. But now, just because those words came out of your mouth, yeah. You're stupid."

Riley obviously doesn't take the joked insult to heart, grinning as Maren rolls her eyes. I can't really tell if she just likes amusing people or if she actually doesn't know what she said that got us laughing. Despite her straight A's, she seems to lack a certain level of common sense. It's funny though, but I think she knows that.

"Why haven't you used your power-up yet?" Joseph asks. He's sitting next to Marina who's opted to not play, instead listening to the exchange with amusement, like I am. "You've had a Bullet Bill this whole time."

"A what?"

"The thing is the corner. It's your power-up." I explain. "Hit the button on your nunchuck."

Her voice rises a confused fraction. "My _what_?" I hold back a laugh, but she seems to notice her change of pitch when she hears the chuckles of everyone else.

I reach over and press the correct button, her character transforming into a bullet as it speedily works its way to the programmed players.

"Oh wow, this would have been useful forever ago." She laughs. Her character finally catches up to the rest of the competitors and she just squeaks into eleventh place as she passes the line. Joseph cheers for her, Stanley and I join in and Marina and Maren roll their eyes.

The ending podium appears on-screen, Bowser in the gold spot and Wario in the silver. It's not a surprise since Maren and Stanley have been trading first and second place throughout the whole tournament. Riley is nowhere to be seen in the standings of course, and Joseph complains about getting fourth.

"Thank God, it's over." Riley practically thrusts her remote and nunchuck in my direction and I take them with a chuckle. Maren stands up and hands her remote to Marina, who doesn't exactly look excited to play, but takes it anyway.

Stanley sees the exchange, confused. "What? Too afraid to play in round two, Sweetheart?" He challenges. Maren doesn't respond but shakes her empty can of Pepsi at him, signifying she needs a refill. "Oh, get me one while you're up there." He requests.

I think she might refuse, but she nods, most likely acknowledging that he's responsible for her having a soft drink in the first place since it's his house. She has her pride, but I guess she also has her manners.

She disappears down the hallway that leads to upstairs and we start the second round of games. I keep my character the same but change my drifting to automatic, avoiding Riley's mistake. After some arguing about characters from Joseph and Stanley, the game gets underway. The countdown to the first race is on the screen when I go to take a sip of my drink, and realize there's less than a mouthful left. I suppose I should have asked Maren if she would get me another one like Stanley did. But then, I wouldn't want her to think I was requesting things of her.

I stand up and drop my remote in Riley's lap as I leave. She looks up, startled. "What? John, no." She protests just as the count down reaches zero.

"You've got this." I encourage. The looks she gives me makes it clear exactly how much she disagrees with that statement, but she starts playing anyway, immediately banging into a wall.

I exit out the doorway into the slightly dimmer hall, the floors covered in cream coloured carpet out here as opposed to the light brown in the theatre room. I guess the darker shade is better for watching movies when the lights are turned off. I know my way well around the house after being here so many times, and I'm barely paying attention as my feet take me down the dimly lit hall.

My mind snaps to attention as I turn a sharp corner and find Maren just in front of me. I rush to stop myself and try to apologize at the same time, but then a substantial force hits me in the stomach. The punch is so hard it forces air out of my lungs and my arms cross over my abdomen at their own will, a grunt escaping my throat. It's about the only sound I can make now that my lungs appear to be empty.

"Oh fuck. Are you okay?" Maren asks. My body still in a bent position, I nod a little too fast as I suck in air, attempting to regain my lost breath.

"Yeah. Just peachy." My voice comes out squeezed and accompanied with a cough. I straighten up with a slight cringe, noticing the two sodas in one of her hands, her other one uncurling from a fist.

"Jesus, you shouldn't just appear like that." She scolds, her concern changing to irritation alarmingly quick. She sounds breathless too, probably the shock from the scare wearing off. "What are you even doing here?" I look at her. Her jaw is set, her posture straight and stormy eyes guarded. The expression spikes my nerves.

She's mad.

"I needed another pop." I explain. She lets out a huff through her nose.

"You should have asked me for one when I went up then."

"I didn't know I needed one. Plus I didn't want to-" I cough, "inconvenience you."

Maren looks me over for a second, from the hand resting on my gut to my slowly recovering face. She's undoubtedly just as aware as I am of the irony since I ended up inconveniencing her and causing damage to myself. She sighs and shakes her head, looking down at the floor for a moment. When she glances back up I can see some irritation ebbing away.

"Are you alright?" She asks again, this time in concern rather than surprise.

"Yeah. I mean, a little internal bruising isn't a cause for concern right?" I joke. She doesn't seem amused. "Good punch though. Damn." And it was. It's not the hardest punch I've ever received but I'm willing to bet if she had time to prepare, it would be high on the list. "How'd you learn to hit so good?" I ask.

Her eyes dart to mine. "I already told you. I go to the gym for the punching bag." She says. Yes, I remember her telling me that. That fateful day I had been an idiot and she saw it all.

"A punching bag doesn't teach reflexes." I reply, thinking of my throbbing stomach.

"I guess not." She shrugs. I'd like her to elaborate, but I know better than to ask. "What kind of pop were you going to get?"

"Sprite." She nods and makes a gesture toward the theatre room, telling me to go back. She starts to walk back to the stairs. "Wait, where are going?" I ask. She turns around, walking backwards.

"I just hit you. And since you're in _obvious_ misery, the least I can do is get you your stupid drink." She explains, the corner of her mouth lifting up for the first time in the conversation. I grin as she turns back around, and start jogging so I can catch up to her, because there's no way in hell I'm letting her think that one punch laid me out.

"A simple apology would have been sufficient."

She shoots me a look. "Why would I apologize? You're the one who scared me."

"It's not like I did it on purpose." I argue, though smiling at her teasing tone. "Maybe I would have been more careful if I knew there was a blood thirsty lunatic on the loose."

"Well maybe I wouldn't have punched you if you didn't look so much like a punching bag."

"I look nothing like a punching bag."

"Sorry, you're right. That was an insult to punching bags."

I scoff but can't seem to find any words for a rebuttal as we start to ascend the steps. Maren turns her head at my silence and a smile fights it's way onto her lips.

"You're on thin ice, Elizabeth." I threaten, finding it hard to keep down my grin. She rolls her eyes and laughs, causing my expression to escape.

Once we're up the stairs we have to pass through the living room to get to the kitchen. I notice her looking around, most likely noting the difference in its cleanliness since the last time she was here. Yup, no alcohol stains on the floor now. If you flipped the couch cushions over you might find some though.

"Good memories in this room?" I tease. She shoots me a look like 'watch it', and I laugh.

"I'm sure you had fun cleaning it up." She counters.

My eyebrows shoot up. "How'd you hear about that?" She shrugs, not lingering in the living room and quickly moving on to the kitchen.

"Through the grapevine." She replies vaguely. I hold in a laugh. Judging by the short list of people she associates with, I'm willing to bet that her so-called 'grapevine' doesn't extend very far.

"I bet it was Joseph." I say. One side of her mouth quirks up and I assume I got it wrong.

"No, it was Marina. _She_ heard it from Joseph." We enter the kitchen and she opens the fridge, pulling out a sprite and holding it out to me.

"Doesn't really make sense for you to be all mysterious earlier if you were just going to tell me regardless." I take the drink with a smirk and slide past her to catch the closing door of the fridge. My eyes scan the shelves as I feel cold air spill out.

"What are you looking for?" Maren asks flatly, probably finding it strange I didn't just take what I came up here for. I picture her with a raised eyebrow of disinterest and I'm glad she can't see my smile.

"Stuff." I reply.

"Now who's being mysterious?"

I look over my shoulder and scrunch up my nose at her. Maren's expression is exactly like I pictured it as, and she's leaned against the island with her arms crossed. But when a smile twitches at her lips as her eyes meet mine, I can't help but notice how the throbbing in my stomach suddenly feels so far away. I scan the shelves and pull out an extra box of fries that hardly anyone touched, closing the door and putting them on the counter.

"You're still hungry?" Maren asks, her eyebrows raised.

"No, I just need something to go with the soda." I explain. I open the box and take out a fry. "Plus, I could use a break from the Mario Kart Olympics."

Maren chuckles under her breath and nods. "Agreed." I shoot her a doubtful look as she picks up a fry. She looks up as she puts it in her mouth, eyes widening in silent question. I might've found the look intimidating just a few weeks ago, but I'm too used to her expressions now to see it as anything more than just 'Maren'. "What?" She asks.

"I wouldn't expect the Mario Kart _God_ to need a break." I tease. She rolls her eyes, and opens her drink. "How'd you get so good though?" I ask. Maren shrugs.

"Oh you know, I just spend my every waking moment replaying all the levels over and over again." She says sarcastically. I let out a laugh and Maren bites into another fry, smiling. "I'm as surprised as you are. I just played it a couple times when I was younger. Logically, everyone should be beating me." She explains around the food in her mouth, apparently not one for being proper. What a surprise.

"Right." I say skeptically. "Any other talents I should know about then? Are you also a legend in Call of Duty?"

Maren shrugs and pushes herself up on the counter, her feet dangling by the drawers. When she sits up there we're eye level, and her's are teasing, making the pain in my stomach transform into more of a squeezing feeling. It's those expressions that seem to affect me more than a frown or an eye roll. I don't expect them from her, but looking at her now, I can't believe how something so rare could suit her so perfectly.

"Fine, don't answer then." I say, crossing my arms, but uncrossing them immediately so I can reach for a fry. "I'll give you an easier question." I point the food at her. "What's your favourite colour?"

She arches an eyebrow, and even though she's still stunning, the familiar expression makes it easier for me to think. "My favourite colour." She states.

"That's what I said."

"Why?"

"Just curious."

"Okay then." She appears to think for a second, pausing with a fry between her fingers. "Would it be too depressing if I said black?"

"Yes." I reply. She gives a short chuckle. "Besides, black is a shade, not a colour."

Suddenly her face goes slack, looking tired as she picks up another fry. "Oh. So you're one of _those_ people."

"One of what people?" I ask.

She rolls her eyes. "One of those people who are really obnoxious about black being shade. God forbid something that's not in the rainbow be considered a colour." She bites into her food, eyes widening in exaggerated annoyance at her statement.

I grin at her. "Well, that _is_ kind of the definition of a colour." She scowls at me, but I'm not worried. "That just proves that you're weirder than I thought you were."

"Because I believe black is a colour." She accuses flatly.

"No, not just that."

"What then?"

"Well for starters, there's a chair two feet away from you and you chose to sit on the counter." I point out. She looks to her side at the kitchen table I'm pointing out, many chairs arranged around it. When she looks back she huffs.

"That chair is at _least_ six feet away."

Another smile is quick to make its way onto my face. "That wasn't exactly the point."

"Well, I'm not about to listen to the point of a guy who can't even estimate distance correctly." She counters. I scoff, but that seems to be the extent of my retort aside from crossing my arms. Unfortunately my mouth isn't as smart as hers, and by the smirk forming on her lips, she knows it. She looks at me, her gaze suddenly less teasing. "What's _your_ favourite colour?" She asks.

I raise an eyebrow, amused. "Are you asking because you're interested or just to be polite?"

She laughs and looks down for only a moment. "I'm not polite, John." She says.

I laugh a little too. Because I know she sees herself as the person who nearly broke Phiri's nose, who only has two friends, or the closed-off girl with a too-smart mouth. But she's also the girl who told me my haircut looked good, who led a lost guy to the other end of a supermarket for a bottle of shampoo, and the girl who tied an idiot's shoe at the gym.

"Blue." I say. "But not like electric blue or navy. Somewhere in the middle."

She nods, seeming to approve of my choice. "Like cobalt blue."

"Yeah, I guess."

"Good choice." She says, reaching to the box for another fry. Her eyebrows pinch together and she picks up the box. "Oh, we're out." She shows me the inside, and sure enough, there's only a couple a left. "Here." She says, offering me the box.

I smile knowingly and she arches an eyebrow at the expression. "And you said you're not polite." I take the fries out of the box and pop them in my mouth. She snorts.

"It's a couple of fries, John. Don't take it to heart."

"Too late." I pluck the box from her hand and make my way toward the garbage can in the corner. "I've already committed this moment to memory." I open the can and put the box in the garbage. When I turn around Maren is already off the counter and rolling her eyes. She grabs two Pepsi's off the counter and starts leaving the kitchen.

"Let's go." She says.

I rush to grab my sprite and realize that although I got the fries to go with the drink, I never even opened it yet. I guess I got a bit distracted. When I catch up to Maren, she's already halfway down the steps.

We're just reaching the landing of the stairs when she says, "Red."

"What?"

She doesn't look at me, instead keeping her eyes focused somewhere further down the hallway. "Red. That's my favourite colour other than black."

I don't ask why she likes that colour. The only red coloured things I can associate her with are gym carpets and running tracks.

"Cool." I say nodding. "Black still isn't a colour though." I can't help but tease.

"You know what? I'm going to prove you wrong." She decides. I raise my eyebrows.

"And how would you do that?"

"Well I won't." She smirks. "But Riley will."

I wait for her to explain it further but she just keeps walking until we reach the theatre. Again, Riley is the only one left playing. Maren walks around to Stanley's seat and drops the can of pop in his lap before taking the controls from Riley and dropping down into her previous position.

"Tell John that black is a colour." She orders, the character on screen now moving at a much faster pace due to the shift in control.

I sit down on the other side of the couch Riley is sitting on, opening my drink. She glances at me. "Uh, black is a colour."

I chuckle. "Strong reasoning."

Maren rolls her eyes. "No, R. Explain that shirt colour reflection... thing."

"Oh, okay. Well... uh. We learned this in like seventh grade but whatever," She looks at me, then at my shirt. "Okay, so you're wearing a green shirt." She says.

"Right."

"So really, you're wearing every colour _except_ green." She explains. I look at her skeptically and both Joseph and Stanley turn to look at her the same way, making her rush to explain. "The shirt absorbs every colour except green because green is reflected."

I feel my face clear and Joseph's expression is similar. Stanley however, just looks more confused. "So this," he pinches his black t-shirt, "What colour does this reflect?"

Riley grins, gaining confidence now that someone has taken an interest. "That's it. It doesn't reflect any colour because it absorbs them all." She explains with an excited hand gesture I can't translate.

Stanley raises an amused eyebrow. "So black is like, the ultimate colour?" He concludes.

She nods. "Yup."

Maren smirks at me and raises her eyebrows smugly, as though she was the one who proved me wrong. 'Loser' She mouths to me. I huff.

"You are a child." I accuse.

She laughs, turning back to the game and finally catching up to the programmed players. "Deal with it."

I grin and lean back on the couch, putting an arm up on the back cushion. I have a feeling that 'dealing with it' won't be a problem at all.

 **Hey guys, thanks for reading and let me know what you think :)**


	18. Chapter 18

**Hey guys!**

 **I know I said I probably wouldn't have an update before exams are over, but luckily for you (not so great for me) procrastination struck, so here's a chapter!**

 **Reviews:**

 **lorienlegacies96- First of all, never apologize for your imagination running wild. That's how great stuff happens! Plus I love hearing people's ideas. Second, that's a good idea and I _might_ have something vaguely like that planned already? Not exactly to that extent though. Thanks for the review!**

 **I.Wish.I.Could.Be.Number.Five- Do not say sorry for leaving long reviews, I actually love reading long reviews. It's really good to know that the friendships are actually interesting and it's reassuring to know that the romances are moving at a good speed. Your reviews always hit the spots I'm not so sure about with this story, so thank you for that :) Thanks for reading and reviewing!**

 **navrina78- Thanks for the beautiful review! You don't know how glad I am that the friendships and group stuff is appreciated because it was something I was worried about. I'm happy the couple stuff is good also, and thanks for the good wishes on my exams! If I ever get around to studying some more they should go good :)**

 **Somebody- That's a good idea and I always love to hear your guys' thoughts for the story. I have a different idea for the way it will go down and don't worry, it's coming, I promise. Thanks for the review and please keep coming with the ideas :)**

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 **That's all from me, read on!**

 **Stanley**

I stare intensely at one spot on the wall in Mr. Collins' room. He's here too, explaining something about a math topic I should probably be paying attention to, but I've got better things to do. In my boredom, I've discovered that if I look at one spot long enough, my vision starts to narrow and it soon becomes all I can see. Even I have to admit, it's not the most effective way I've ever found to elevate my boredom in this class. But if the focus I put into this activity blocks out the droning sound that is my teacher's voice, it's worth it.

I keep staring, slightly irritated as Mr. Collins' voice starts to bleed into my consciousness. I put extra focus into my useless task and try to block out any spare words I'm catching.

"... because this will be on the test tomorrow."

My head shoots up so quickly that my desk moves an inch backwards from the force of it. A few heads turn at the noise but I don't care. There's a test tomorrow and I didn't even know about it.

During the next few minutes I try to absorb as much information as possible, but it's useless, I've missed too much. By the time he stops teaching I think I know less than when I decided to tune in. All I know right now is that I'm angry. Teachers can't just schedule tests they never gave us a chance to prepare for! It's unfair.

I turn to Riley as she starts to pack up, ready to voice my outrage.

"Yes, he told us about the test last week." She interrupts before I can even start. I don't comprehend at first and just keep staring at her with furrowed eyebrows and an open mouth. Riley puts her math book inside her binder, glancing at my expression. "It's been written on the white board since last Monday, and it's on the school website."

I keep staring at her similar to the way I was looking at the wall earlier, studying her to see if she's joking. "Uh... how?" I ask finally and desperately. "I didn't hear him say anything."

Riley closes her binder and shakes her head. She's probably trying not to be too amused since I'm sort of stressing. "Maybe if you stopped aggressively staring at the wall every class, you would have heard." She finally lets out a chuckle as she says that, but it does nothing to relieve my nerves. Of course she's calm. She's like the math goddess.

"Can you help me?" The words are out of my mouth before I can even think of saying them. Realizing what I said, I rush to add more senseless reasoning. "I mean, do you still do that tutoring thing? Because class is last period tomorrow so I could come down at lunch and uh... learn." I finish lamely.

"You should have _uh... learned_ in class when he was teaching it." She replies. "And no, I have all my volunteer hours now so I don't need to tutor at lunch."

"Alright, you have all your volunteer hours, but do you have the satisfaction of helping humanity?" I counter. She raises her eyebrows in amused exasperation.

"By humanity, do you mean yourself?"

"Yes."

She cracks a smile and shakes her head. "Look, any other day you'd be able to come over, but I have a meeting thing after school today."

"Well how long is it?" I ask, embarrassingly desperate.

"Probably around fifteen minutes."

"That's great! I can just wait around." I grin at my solution and she shrugs, seeming to agree, which is nice considering I'm kind of asking a lot of her. "Can you also drive me there?"

She laughs. "You're relentless aren't you?"

I take it as a yes and lean back in my plastic chair, now overly relaxed due to the new probability of getting a passing grade. After the relief sets in, I start to actually comprehend the rest of the conversation, and I smirk. Riley looks confused.

"How'd you know I was staring at the wall all class?" I ask, arching an eyebrow. "Watching me?" If I said that sentence to any other girl I know what would happen. I'd get a giggle followed by a coy denial, maybe a casual hair flip.

Riley snorts. "I couldn't help it." She looks at me in mock seriousness, but I know it won't hold long. "I could actually _feel_ the intensity radiating off of you."

I force my face into a steely gaze, tipping my chin up and looking down at her. "Intensity is my middle name." I say huskily.

"You'd like that wouldn't you?" She laughs. "I bet your middle name is something really rugged. Something that just _screams_ masculinity." She jokes. I feel my expression morph into a grimace and I look down. "Wow, is it that bad?" She asks in surprise.

"Yes." I say immediately.

"You have to tell me then." She orders.

"Why would I do that?"

"I'm teaching you math." She says, a rare challenging look in her eyes. "You owe me."

I let my breath hiss out of my teeth, because she has a point. Clenching my jaw, and looking at her out of the corner of my eye, I mutter, "Donald."

Her eyebrows pinch in and I realize she never heard. Not a surprise considering I barely got it out through my teeth. It doesn't make me any more excited to say it again. "What?" Riley asks.

"It's Donald." I say a bit louder, but definitely not too loud. It's not information I'm eager to broadcast.

Riley's eyebrows shoot up, and she bites her lip, no doubt trying to keep down a smile. "As in, the duck?" She asks.

"Yes."

She's silent for a moment, nodding slowly but a smile inching it's way over her lips. "That's not even bad." She chuckles, and I roll my eyes because laughing through her words is one of her lying tells. One of many.

"Oh whatever." I scoff, crossing my arms. She finally laughs properly then and I look away. "What's your middle name anyway? I bet it's equally as terrible." I mutter.

She nods but shrugs. "It is equally terrible, but for a different reason." She doesn't seems eager to share either, making me forget my embarrassment for a moment as curiosity takes its place.

"What is it?" I ask again.

Of course the bell has to ring at that exact moment and Riley laughs, picking up her books quicker than she usually does. "Oh come on! I need to know." I call. I try to get up as fast as her but end up hitting my legs off the desk.

"I'm sorry, but I really have to go." She walks backwards a couple steps, her lips pressed together in mock regret as she points behind her with her thumb. I glare and she lets out that lopsided grin.

Her victory doesn't last long though as her backwards steps cause her to run into someone behind her and the grin morphs into wide eyes of panic, an apology forming in her mouth before she even turns around. I laugh as she rushes to amend the situation, seeming to forget all about our mini argument. She can never seem to go long without incident.

Let's hope her driving is better than her balance.

- _Page Break-_

The hard wood of the bench presses into my back as I wait in the school lobby. It's only been ten minutes since the bell rang, but I'm already incredibly bored, my entire body slack as I slouch against the bench, eyes boring into the wall opposite me.

Thankfully it's only takes a couple more minutes until I hear footsteps sound up the otherwise silent corridor. I watch the opening of the hall until a figure makes an appearance. Riley raises an amused eyebrow at me.

"You look like a sulking child." She says. I let a smile out then, standing and holding the door open for her before she even gets to it. She thanks me as she walks through.

"What was your meeting about?" I ask as I walk beside her.

"Oh, it was just the sign-up for ROV." She explains. Probably anticipating my confusion, she quickly continues so I can make sense of it. "It stands for remotely operated vehicle, but it's basically just underwater robotics." I have to laugh at the word 'just' because it makes the topic of conversation sound not the least bit impressive.

"Nerd." I accuse childishly. She just shrugs, not denying it, which would be quite useless anyway. I rub my hands together. "Alright, where is this 'Mavis' I've heard so much about?" I ask. She grins appreciatively and points to a burgundy van not too far away from the curb. I can tell it's an old model just by looking at it, but it must be in good condition if it's still legally allowed on the road.

"There she is." Riley announces proudly.

The old dullness of the car paint is even more apparent as we approach the vehicle, and I start to take in the the dirt splashes and grim scratches on the van. Even from here, I can see that the seats are a beige felt, adding to the dated look.

"Can I put my bag in the back?" I ask her as we arrive at our transportation. I already have a hand on the handle as she says yes. I give it tug, but it won't move.

"Oh yeah, that door is a bit janky." Riley explains. I get out of the way as she comes around the side of me and positions her hand on the door handle. "You just need to give it a hard yank and-" She heaves her body back and the door slides open with a series on unhealthy squeaks. I raise an eyebrow but remain silent as I drop my school bag on the seat, closing the door as it emits the same concerning amount of creaks it did when it opened.

I put my hand on the passenger door handle and smirk at Riley as she makes her way around the front of the van. "Will this one let me in?" I tease.

"Uh, no actually." She chuckles. "The remote unlock doesn't work with that door. Don't know why, just give me a second..." she opens the drivers side door while I feel my brows furrow. Just one door doesn't work? Weird.

She hops into her seat and leans across the console to pull up on the locking mechanism, letting me in. The door only sounds a tad less worrying when I swing it open. I find the seat comfortable when I get in, and start to think that I shouldn't judge the van too quickly. It's sure to have redeeming qualities.

The van starts up with a surprising amount of ease for an old engine, the sound of static starting to emit through the speakers. Riley shakes her head and tries to change the channel, but all that comes out of it is the steady crackling of incoherent songs.

"Does it usually do that?" I ask.

"It works on and off." She shrugs. "I think the antenna is broken." My head snaps towards her as she tries to find a station that works. Did she just say _antenna_? "I usually just turn the volume down in case it decides it wants to work." She continues, my shock thankfully going unnoticed by her. I start discreetly looking for a time stamp somewhere on the vehicle. When was this thing made?

A creaking sound is audible when she changes the gear, like the vehicle is reluctant to take us anywhere. But it pulls out of the parking space without trouble, so I guess that's... confidence inspiring. The quiet sound of static doesn't bother me now as much as I thought it would. It's hardly audible anyway but my ears get used to the constant sound as we stop by the main road, waiting for an opening.

"Seatbelt?" She asks. I hurry to buckle up and then nod, prompting her to start looking up and down the road,

"How old is this thing?" I finally ask.

"Uh..." She appears to have to think about it. I'll admit, it's concerning that a person who memorized the freaking periodic table can't immediately remember the age of her vehicle. "Nine...? No ten years old." She says. The vehicle suddenly lurches forward, making my head hit the headrest and my arm hit the console as she makes the turn sharply.

"We're not in a rush." I say as I straighten back up in my seat.

She looks confused. "I know."

 _So she normally drives like this_ , I conclude with a very quick glance at her. I'm suddenly not sure if the condition of the van should be my biggest concern. But that thought feels foolish because deep inside, I know you have to be a safe driver to get your license, and Riley is no exception. I relax into the comfortable seat. See? It's a good seat! That's a plus, I tell myself.

A rough jolt startles me out of my thoughts and I grit my teeth as we go over a pothole, hoping it didn't cause any damage. Well, any _more_ damage. But then I notice silence, and I'm confused about where the static went.

"Hm, I don't remember that being there. Must be a new one." Riley looks into the side mirror at what I assume to be the spot we just hit.

"Did the radio just cut out?" I ask.

"Oh yeah, it does that whenever I hit a hard bump." She explains casually. Suddenly the speakers cut back in, but a song filters through instead of static. Riley laughs. "Hey, the radio works again!"

"Great." I agree with what I hope to be a convincing display of enthusiasm. I doubt she would notice if I didn't sound honest enough by the way she's now contently listening to the music, tapping the steering wheel along with the beat of some dated song. "Ew." I complain in response to the music, crossing my arms.

"Yeah, Maren hates this station too." She admits, then laughs. "She calls it 'old people FM'."

"Well, I hate to say it but she's right."

Riley shrugs and I notice how her tapping fingers go uninterrupted as she talks. "You can change it if you want." She offers.

I reach forward and change the radio to a new music station, letting out an exaggeratedly relaxed sigh as a popular song plays over the speakers. Riley screws up her face, and I have to hold back a laugh because her expressions just make it so easy to know exactly where her mind is.

"You'll listen to this, but you won't listen to Billy Joel." She accuses.

"This is the number one song on the charts right now."

"So you just listen to it because everyone else does?"

"Pretty much, yeah." I smirk when I see her fingers tapping on the steering wheel again. "See? You like it."

"Billy Joel is better." She doesn't confirm nor deny my statement. I take it as a victory.

Though she claims the drive to her house is fifteen minutes long, it doesn't feel that long. Between talking to Riley and listening to the seemingly resurrected radio, I start to forget about the van's issues and even a little bit about her rough driving. Although it doesn't completely leave my mind, especially after a rather rocky parking job into the driveway of her house. Oddly, there's a strange mix of relief and disappointment when I step out of vehicle. I guess I can start to see it's charm.

The house is actually quite nice when we get inside. It has a weird mix of dated and new furniture, but it all seems to blend together nicely.

"I think Steph is having people over, so we can set up in my room." Riley explains, leading me down a hallway. I look into an open door as I pass. It turns out to be the bathroom, and a dripping sound draws my eyes to the bucket in the corner. I stop to watch a drop of water accumulate on the ceiling before dropping down with a small splash.

"You have a leak." I inform, starting to follow her again.

"Really? I thought we just put the bucket there for decoration." She deadpans, but it doesn't take long for her to send a small smirk over her shoulder as she faces a door. "We know it's there, we just don't want to call insurance on such a small problem."

"Stuff from the outside is not supposed to be inside." I say as she pushes the door open. "That seems like at least a medium-sized problem." Riley just shrugs and I follow her through the door.

I expected her room to look like her math notes; organized, neat, everything diverted into their own little categories. It's not. Instead of the immaculate living condition I was expecting, I find a bed with the comforter haphazardly pulled up over the pillows, and the edges of a hardwood floor littered with various forms of clutter, all seeming to serve their own purpose. It's a welcome sight to see a pile of books on a desk, because I was expected something like that. I'm a little shocked at the small amount though.

"This is messier than I expected." I admit. Riley makes a noise, which I can only take to be shocked or offended.

"I'm sure your room has mold for a carpet." She retorts.

"Ha, only in the corners." I counter smugly.

She aches an amused eyebrow, tame for her usually animated expressions. But then She laughs and I realize she must have been concentrating on holding it back. "That's not something you should be proud to say."

I shrug. "I take what I can get."

She shakes her head. "Make yourself comfortable." Riley gestures around the space. "I'm gonna go get a pillow chair uh... thingy."

She leaves before I can ask what exactly a 'pillow chair thingy' is, disappearing into the room directly across from her own. I drop my book bag on her bed and turn in a slow circle. I finally understand the lacking of books on her desk when I see the bookshelf standing tall on the wall adjacent to the door, so many books on the shelves I fear they may not be able to handle the weight.

I forget about preparing any notes and amble over the shelves, trying and failing to take in the expanse of the literary collection contained in such a small area. A chuckle comes from me when I start from the bottom and see the whole shelf dedicated to math books. She must have over fifty at least, some thin and some thicker than the width of my hand. How much math can one person read? The next shelf up is science. I pluck one from the shelf and look at the cover. 'Space: A Crash Course'. I shake my head, flipping it over and reading a couple words on the back, all of them looking more than a little nerdy. Typical.

I hear Riley step back in but don't look up from my examination. "Oh." She says flatly. "I see you've wasted no time snooping around."

"This is quite the impressive collection." I comment, ignoring the words that were meant to make me feel sheepish. They don't. I flip open to a random page in the book and frowning at all the words.

"I guess." She replies nonchalantly, also coming over. She taps the book in my hand. "That one is really good, teaches you a lot of stuff."

"Like what?" I question.

"Like... the elements in the sun or how a black hole is formed."

"How is a black hole formed?"

"You don't want to know."

I nod because she's probably right and she clears her throat. I notice with horror that she's starting to look at my bag on the bed, which holds my math book. Despite coming here for the purpose of learning the material in it, I find myself dreading the begins of such an activity.

"Why do you have so many math books?" I ask quickly, before she suggests we start the subject. "And don't say it's just because you like math, because I like cars but I don't know how to build an engine."

"Well I haven't read all of them."

"That wasn't the question."

She lets out a short but quiet sigh, scratching the side of her head. "When I was younger my Mom thought I was a math prodigy or something so she bought me all these books, and I've gotten through most of them but..." she trails off with a shrug.

" _Aren't_ you kind of a math prodigy though?" I ask, bending down and pulling one off the shelf. "I mean, what the hell is all this? Do you actually understand this stuff?" I flip though the pages like I did before, and like before, she grabs the book from my hand and puts it back in the shelf.

" _You_ need to understand the unit we're doing now. Stop trying to avoid your responsibilities." She teases, though slightly serious.

"I'm not avoiding my responsibilities." I argue. "Just prolonging them."

"Right, because that's so much better." Riley says sarcastically. "Come on we need-"

"Why is there a dent in your wall?" I interrupt. I'm usually not this perceptive, but it's amazing what you notice when you're trying to get out of something.

"I tripped." She answers. I stare at her blankly, then back at the dent.

"It's in the middle of the wall, where the hell were you going?"

"I don't know. Now lets start-"

"What's up with your alarm clock?" I point at her nightstand, where a sad looking digital clock perches, it's screen broken.

"Are you going to scrutinize everything in my room?" Riley mutters. Undeterred, I just smile at her until she sighs. "I'm not a morning person." She explains vaguely.

I chuckle and take another glance at the dent in the wall, beginning to think that the alarm clock might have something to do with it. With nothing else to say to distract her, I grab another book from a shelf, holding it away when Riley reaches out to take it.

"Feisty." I tease, smirking as I open the book to a random page. There's a lot of words on it and when I turn it over, I laugh at the title. "The Book of Useless facts, huh? I bet this is your favourite one."

Riley lets out a quiet sound which I think is supposed to be an annoyed sigh. But it's soft and short and if she was looking to achieve anything more than mild exasperation, she failed.

"How about I ask you a question." She proposes. My eyebrows shoot up in surprise, shocked she's actually giving into the distraction. I'd be stupid to question it though, so I just let her speak. "Do you want to fail this math test?"

I shouldn't be so disappointed that she's getting us back on track, but I am. I've never been so intrigued by a bunch of books before and I doubt I ever will again. Maybe it's just because _she_ owns them that I'm interested. "No Ma'm." I reply, placing the book back on the shelf, her eyes following my movements. She presses her lips together, looking conflicted.

"Okay then." She glances down at the shelf for a second before shaking her head, muttering about how the spine needs to facing outward as she changes its' position entirely. It's obvious I didn't put it back right and I find amusement in watching her as she fusses over her precious bookcase. She finishes, looking up and pointing to the bed. "Alright, now come on."

I know she's talking about the book bag on the bed, but a smirk is back on my face in an instant. "Someone's moving fast."

"Ugh, not like that." She complains as she makes her way there. I walk around the other side of the bed, the space between the mattress and the wall providing just enough room for me to walk.

"Hey, I'm not judging or anything." I continue. On the other side of the bed, Riley, who has taken the liberty of taking my math book out of my bag, raises her eyebrows. She's supposed to exasperated, but the corner of her mouth tugging up is far from hidden. I lean across the bed so my face is level with hers. "I like going fast."

I might say more if it suddenly didn't come to me about what I'm doing. I'm flirting. Like actual, shameless, I-didn't-come-here-for-the-tutoring, flirting. I know it's basically my one form of communication with girls, but somehow it feels wrong to lump Riley into that group. It's either I feel that she's too good to have to deal with this, or I know that I'd have to do more than say a few smooth words to win her over.

She's not embarrassed or flustered or anything else I would expect. She laughs, her annoyance behind her. My smirk turns into a grin.

"Well, that's great." She says optimistically. "Because we're going to just whip through these equations here." She pats the math book affectionately. Something else coming from my mouth stops me from rolling my eyes.

"We can whip through a few other things too, if you're lucky."

 _Stop saying things_! My mind screams at me, and I agree wholeheartedly. Sadly, my mouth has yet to catch up to our decision.

Riley looks at me, her expression as flat as her personality will allow, which basically just means a small smile remains. "I thought you were ready to start." She chides, though obviously not offended. I thank whatever force above that she's not one to take me seriously.

"Oh come on, Pierce." I grin as she sits down against a pillow positioned upright on the wall. I shuffle sideways up the narrow space on the other side. "You should've known that I can't stay serious for too long. It's unhealthy for- Ohh, what's this?"

My foot nudges something under the bed and I immediately lean down to get a better look.

"Stanley-"

"Really, Pierce? You don't have enough talents already? You're musically inclined too?" I tease, noticing the familiar shape of a guitar case and starting to pull it out.

"I'm not." Riley replies. I pause and shoot her a weird look.

"Right." I say sarcastically. "I forgot that people who don't play instruments always have random guitars laying around."

"I'm not good." She corrects. "It's not even mine. I just learned a couple of chords when I was younger, but I gave it up a while ago."

"Why did you stop?" I lift the case onto the bed but she just looks somewhere north of my nosiness, the foot under her crossed legs absentmindedly kneading into the sheets.

"Lost interest I guess." She shrugs, a breathed laugh lacing her words. I look down so she can't see my frown. Laughing through her words is one of her lying tells.

"When did that happen?"

"When I around eleven."

I don't think to ask permission before I start unclipping the clasps on the case, opening it up to reveal a dark wood acoustic guitar. This time, I look at Riley before touching it.

"May I?"

She's now staring at the instrument like she can't take her eyes off it. "It's probably out of tune." She shrugs. "But go for it."

I strum down once and sure enough, it's out of tune just like she said. With some help from her, I get the strings tuned up as close to accurate as I can get, beginning to pick a melody. It's not even an actual song, just a little series of chords and a constant picking pattern that helps loosen my hands up.

"Oh wow, you're actually good." Riley seems surprised but I just shrug. Dad started me in lessons when I was ten, telling me it would help me when I was older. I hadn't understood what he meant back then, but now I know that his reasoning was so I could impress people; girls more specifically. At least that's what he tells me. I think he just wanted to keep music in the family.

I finish the warm-up, and try to think of a song Riley might like. I cycle through my brief knowledge of songs she's listened to and find my mind going back to 'old people FM'.

"You still good at guessing songs?" I ask.

"I thought your were too drunk to remember that." She says sceptically.

"It takes a lot of alcohol to get me to that point."

Riley chuckles but it sounds uneasy. Okay, maybe some things from that night are a bit hazy. Her reaction makes me wonder if she said anything she didn't want me to hear. She makes a waving gesture at me, looking at me pointedly. "Well, are you going to play or not?"

I just grin and start picking an easy pattern. Riley raises an eyebrow. "Thought you didn't like old songs."

"So you know what it is then?" I question, my picking uninterrupted since it's a pretty simple melody.

Riley scoffs and rolls her eyes. "Is that even a question? 'Dust in the wind' by Kansas." I roll my eyes at her smugness.

"You forgot the year." I say spitefully. She smiles in a way that lets me know my efforts to stump her are only in vain

"Nineteen seventy seven. Next." She's sitting up straight, obviously ready for me to continue. I'd be surprised at her contentment in this distraction if I wasn't so focused on keeping her mind off math.

Since I only know a couple of old songs, I switch back and forth between dated and modern music. She still gets it right, and I have no idea how. After a couple more songs, I set up for another old one.

"I'm not sure you can handle this one." I warn jokingly.

"Bring it on." She replies, a rare challenging spark in her eyes.

This time, I pull one of the last dated songs I know out of my arsenal. My instructor only taught me this type of music to make me "diverse" but this is one of the few old songs I enjoy playing and hearing. While it doesn't have a complicated picking pattern, the melody takes my fingers up the fret board and then all the way back down again. It's fun to play.

In my focus, I barely notice Riley's silence. It's only when I get to the chorus that I look up and see... not much of anything from her actually. Her legs are still crossed on the bed and she's still looking at the guitar, only her expression has changed. Her mouth no longer holds a smile and her eyes seem to be staring through the instrument. Even more shocking than the neutral replacement of her animated features, this is the only time since I've know her that she's not moving at all. Not a bouncing knee, not twiddling thumbs. Not even a tap.

I stop playing and she seems to snap out of it. "Blackbird. The Beatles. Nineteen sixty eight." She says quickly.

"What was that?" I ask bluntly.

"What was what?"

"That look."

"Oh." She shakes her head, smiling now like the other expression never even existed. "I haven't heard that song in a while, I just zoned out for a second." She cheerily picks up the math book again. "No more distractions okay? Let's do this." She nods at the guitar and I continue to look at her for moment, but she seems to be back to normal, her usual bubbly self as she flips through some pages in the math book.

I carefully put the guitar away and place it back under the bed, not wanting to tarnish whatever it is about it that seemed to have affected her. Maybe a memory or something?

Once I get back on the bed I suddenly become aware of just how nerdy Riley actually is. The 'pillow chair thingy' is a cushion in the shape of a seat back that she explains she only uses for studying, no exceptions. During the couple of minutes it takes us to set up, she collects a neat lap desk, a few highlighters, pens and pencils, and even this mini hole punch thing. She also asks me if I want to mark different sections with colour coded sticky tabs. I decline the offer.

I also notice that all of these things come from the same corner of the room, and begin to see that her room is actually very organized, it's just in the least obvious way possible.

"Are two calculators really necessary?" I groan when she adds them to the growing pile of supplies.

"One is a graphing calculator." She explains. Noticing my worried look, she quickly continues. "Not that we need one, I just thought we could graph some of the functions so it's easier for you to see where the numbers come from."

"Anything that makes it easier." I agree, which she seems excited about.

She holds the math book but places a notebook on the lap desk I'm holding. "Alright, so the main thing about this unit is building on what you already know about linear functions, and re-learning how to factor quadratics..."

After a few times of teaching me math, Riley has gotten good at condensing entire units into manageable chunks. It also helps that she explains everything in her own words and uses her own analogies and weird ways to remember stuff. Besides, she's far easier to listen to than our teacher and yes, I admit, easier to look at too. She explains y-axis' and x-axis' and how to find slope and vertex's and how the 'zeros' of the functions are rarely equal to zero. Who knew?

I enjoy it but it's more amusing than anything watching her get excited over the littlest things and then get even more excited to share the information with me, as though she feels like it's a crime I don't know. She seems to have a particular amount passion for the quadratic formula, which she claims to be a "beautiful piece of mathematics". I laugh because the words 'beautiful' and 'math' have never logically gone together in my mind. But then I notice how her eyes light up when she explains something new, and I find myself asking her questions just to see it happen again. And then in my mind, beauty and math have never fit together so well.

"So a parabola always has two x-intercepts?" I ask at one point.

She quickly corrects me with the same innocent enthusiasm that has me hiding a smile, and she turns a couple pages, pointing out a few functions that would differ from my assumption. In the middle of it, she seems to have an epiphany, grabbing her graphing calculator and typing letters and numbers in it like she's done it a thousand times.

"Here, look." Riley holds the device closer so I can see the screen. "The vertex is above the x-axis and since the parabola opens up, it would not have an x-intercept. So you would write that it had no solution." She explains.

It might just be her own excitement affecting me, but I find the image interesting. I chuckle. "Seems kind stupid though, to do all that work and just come up with nothing."

She laughs too. "You're not coming up with nothing, you're coming up with an answer."

"Which just happens to be nothing."

"No, it happens to be the information that there is no answer." She seems to rethink it. "Well, unless you want to get into imaginary numbers, but that's a little confusing."

Seeming to have another idea, she takes back the device and works another equation into it. It looks to be the same line, only the parabola opens down and some of it is reflected on the horizontal axis. I feel her lean on my shoulder as she shows me the screen, but I don't think she's aware she's doing it. "It's an absolute value function. All the numbers are positive so there are no negative y values. Everything just kind of gets reflected back."

Her excitement must be infectious because I find a grin on my own face as I look down at it. "You know, this is actually pretty cool." I admit. I don't think I'd ever say that sentence to anyone else when math is involved, but Riley seems to appreciate it.

"I know right? And don't even get me started on reciprocal functions." She sighs wistfully and I laugh, thoroughly content with watching her geek out over her favourite subject. She's almost giddy, like a kid. She notices too and I watch as a red tinge spreads across her cheeks, realizing that she was a little caught up in it. She chuckles, the pressure of her weight on my shoulder leaving as she sits up straighter. "Sorry, I just find it interesting. We should get back to what you actually need to know."

"The other stuff is so much better though." I whine. I also wouldn't mind having her closer again either.

"Don't worry, you'll have lots of time for that in university." She teases. I huff as she replaces the graphing calculator with the regular one.

"Why aren't you in advanced math?" I ask, genuinely confused. She could probably teach the class herself at this point.

She shrugs. "I had a lot of tutors when I was younger, so I kind of got tired of being forced to learn it. Really, I've only gone two levels up in math since I was eleven, but I had already learned grade twelve math by then anyway." She says like it's nothing.

"What happened at eleven?" I ask.

Her eyebrows furrow. "Uh, not much. Why?"

"Well you stopped playing guitar then, and you didn't do much with math anymore." I point out. "It just seems weird to have two interests go at once."

She just shrugs. "I guess it's a coincidence." She points to an equation on the page with the back of her pencil. "Factor that one for me."

I sigh but do as she says anyway, deciding not to restart my short rebellion from earlier. Thankfully I don't need to though because after a couple more questions, Riley claims that I know enough to get a good grade on the test. I'm not about to question her judgment, especially when it involves getting out of more work. Plus it's six o'clock now so I've been here almost four hours.

"Can I ask you one more question?" I ask as she starts to pack up all of her little studying devices.

She raises an eyebrow at me. "Does it have to do with math, or scrutinizing my room some more?"

"Neither." I laugh.

She feigns surprise. "Oh, then by all means, carry on."

She takes the lap desk from me and I sit up, pulling my book bag toward me. "Who's guitar is that if it isn't yours?" I grab the math book with one hand and hold my bag open with the other.

"It was my Dad's." Riley says as she takes some things to what seems to be the study material corner. At first I take in the information normally, but then it hits me.

Oh. She said _was_.

"Is he...?" I don't want to say it, but thankfully she knows what I mean.

"Yeah, a few years ago." She drops off the stuff, nothing in her voice hinting that it's a sensitive topic, even though it should be.

"Sorry." I apologize immediately, stopping my progress with packing my bag. I feel like an ass. The last person who played that guitar might have been her Dad, and I opened it without even asking first.

She just shrugs, coming back over to collect more things off the bed. "Thanks, but it happened awhile ago so..." She trails off casually, and it strikes me how matter-of-fact she's acting about the whole thing. She talks about it like the weather or something. Hell, my drunken speech about the dead Mother I can't even remember was more dramatic than this.

Even weirder still, there's nothing around the house that hinted at anything other than the life she has now. There's no family photos, no urns or pictures to commemorate the dead. Nope, the house is completely devoid of anything like that. Weird.

Riley looks over at me and then at the bag. "You gonna put that away?" She asks, amused, and I realize the math book is still in my hand. She chuckles as I drop it in and I watch as she heads over to the door, looking like she's listening for something.

"What is it?" I ask. I hold off on zippering up my bag since I don't want disrupt whatever she's trying to accomplish.

"I just want to know how many people are over." She explains. Just then there's a chorus of laughter from the living room/kitchen, and it sounds like a lot of people.

"Don't like your sister's friends?" I ask, taking the opportunity to zip the bag up.

"I don't like the noise her friends make." She corrects, wincing softly as another burst of noise seeps through the walls.

"Well, I hope you enjoy that. I'll be leaving."

"Yes. Save yourself." She remarks dramatically. I laugh as I pick up my school bag, and I'm relieved to see a smile on her face, telling me she's not too torn up about the situation. "Come on, I'll run you home." She opens the door and I walk through when she gestures for me to go first.

I throw the bag over one of my shoulders while we walk the couple of steps it takes to get to the living room. Once I get there I see that there are about ten people in the house, mingling back and forth between the living room and the kitchen. It's not many people considering the amount of noise we were hearing.

We quickly pull our shoes on and go out the door before I face my second encounter with the janky van. It seems that fearing for my life has a sequel. I put my seatbelt on immediately this time.

"My sister's boyfriend was in there." Riley says as she pulls out of the driveway. Her lips press together as she says it, like the words leave a bad aftertaste.

"Is he that bad?" I chuckle.

"No no, he's great actually."

I blink at her confused. "So what's the problem then?" She looks at me for a moment before turning on her left blinker as we approach an intersection.

"Well, him and Steph both sleep in the same room." She pauses, clearing her throat. "The walls are thin, Stanley."

I can't help a laugh because she seems so innocent, but I guess living with just one young adult can get a bit interesting as a bystander. It makes me wonder where her Mom is, though I won't ask. I feel like I've already asked too much of her today anyway.

It seems that the radio has decided to keep living for the time being, and I notice a song quietly filtering through the speakers, still on the station I chose. Riley doesn't comment on it, though I switch it over to the station she likes anyway. I don't know the song that comes out, but then Riley smiles and I don't mind.

"Thought it's only fair since I got the choice of music on the way over." I explain.

She snorts. "Well, I'm glad I have your permission considering it's _my_ van." She rolls her eyes but even in the dark I can see her fighting a smile.

"Don't get all entitled on me now, Pierce." I chide.

"Is that what you're calling me now?" She laughs. "What? I suddenly don't have a first name?"

She takes a sharp turn but I just grin through it, even when I have to brace my arm against the door. "Nope." I say simply.

She sighs and shakes her head as she keeps driving, the light from street lamps catching in her eyes as she smiles. I don't know the song that's playing and I doubt I would like it if not for the present moment, when the girl next to me is tapping on the steering wheel and mouthing the words.

Maybe this old crap isn't too bad.

 **Maren**

The gymnasium is far too loud for my liking at the moment. The entire school is packed in here for the results of the ticket selling contest, and it's crowded to say the least. I got here first and managed to find a spot on the back wall that I've been saving since I know I'll be joined soon.

Unfortunately, Stanley is the first to show up, and he knows it. The stupid smirk is on his face as he struts over, and I know that while I'd rather stay silent, he'll definitely have something to say.

"Looks like we're the first here, Sweetheart." He observes.

"Obviously." I mutter as he leans on the wall next to me like there's not a better place for him to go.

He pays no attention to my comment, contently crossing his arms and even sighing a little as he leans his head back on the wall as if it's the most comfortable position in the world. Cockiness radiates from him as it always does, but this time I know it's because he takes pleasure in the fact that he's annoying me and there's nothing I can do about it. Well technically I could move, but my pride wouldn't allow that, so I just stare stubbornly ahead.

"Hey, can I ask you something?" He suddenly asks.

I don't look at him as I answer. "I'd really rather you didn't."

"Oh come on, Sweetheart. Can't you pretend that you don't hate me for like two seconds?"

"No."

He just shrugs. He was most likely expecting that answer. "Well I'm gonna ask anyway so you may as be civil."

"This _is_ civil." I dismiss, but he pays no mind to it.

"What's Riley's middle name?" The question surprises me and I actually look at him then. He's already looking down. "What? She won't tell me."

I smirk. Figures. "What's your middle name?" I counter. His face falls and he looks away.

"I'm not going to tell you that."

"Well I guess you're out of luck then." I shrug and turn my head to the front of the gym too. He's silent for a few moments.

"Did you know she plays guitar?"

What kind of stupid question is that? "Yes." I say, deciding to keep the peace. "She doesn't anymore." I add.

"Yeah, I know."

I don't ask how he knows since I don't really want to keep the conversation going, but Stanley seems to have different ideas.

"Why'd she stop?"

I give him a look. "Why don't you ask her?" God this guy is seriously annoying. Just because we have one common link to talk about doesn't mean we should talk. And why does he expect me to know all the answers anyway? I mean, I _do_ , but that isn't the point.

"I did." He defends. It's not a surprise considering he doesn't seem to care all that much about what he says. "But she's kind of secretive."

I hold back a laugh at that because he's actually being serious. Riley is the most open person ever, and if he can't see that much then he's even dumber than I thought.

"Secretive? Really?" I chuckle. Stanley's eyebrows furrow and he looks so confused even I feel pity for him. And then I sigh, because I can't believe I'm actually going to continue a conversation with him that doesn't involve a string of insults. "Riley is an open book, Stanley."

He looks down at me doubtfully. "Really." He says sceptically.

I chuckle. How someone actually be so clueless? "She'll tell you literally anything you want to know." I say, turning my head so I actually look at him as I'm talking. I can't help but be amused at his interest. "All you need to do is ask the right questions."

He seems to think on that for a minute, staring straight ahead and nodding slowly. I assume information takes a while for him to process so I let him take his time. After a few seconds, he grins again, looking down at me with obviously smugness.

"What?" I ask kind of defensively. It's like he knows something I don't.

"See? It wasn't so hard to be nice to me, was it?"

My lips press together when I realize that he's exactly right. I _was_ nice to him. I gave him advice and answered his questions with minimal amount of bitterness. I look away stubbornly and he laughs, nudging my arm with his elbow.

"Oh, how utterly shocked you must be to find out you actually have a heart in there." He teases.

"I suppose you'll feel the same way if you ever discover a brain inside you." I retort.

He laughs again, seeming to appreciate the back and forth for once. I'm barely containing a smile too, but he'll never know that.

Up ahead I notice Riley and Marina enter through the doorway, they must have had a class together. Stanley notices too.

"Please tell me."

"No."

"Come on!"

"Sorry, you're out of luck."

"I'll give you twenty bucks."

I pause with my mouth open, ready to spew off another denial, but twenty bucks does sound pretty good. Stanley grins triumphantly at my hesitation.

"Aha! There we go. Now what is it?"

"Didn't you say you'd give me money?"

His expression turns into a look of disbelief. "Right now?" He asks, gesturing up to where Marina and Riley are getting closer, having spotted us. "But she's right there."

I shrug. "You better hurry up then." I wave to my friends as they make their progress, smiling as Stanley huffs and pulls his wallet out of his pocket with more aggression than necessary.

He yanks out a twenty and thrusts it at me. "It's Grace." I state easily, pulling the bill from his hand and quickly shoving it my back pocket.

His eyebrows furrow and I can tell he doesn't get the irony. But thanks to Riley's naturally tragic timing, she manages to trip over somebody's bag at that exact moment, stumbling into Marina. The latter rolls her eyes as Riley profusely apologizes to whoever she's effected this time.

"Oh wow, yeah. That's uh..." Stanley laughs and crosses his arms, his amusement leading me to believe that he's already related that incident to her accidental occurrences of the past. "That's unfortunate." He finishes, shaking his head.

"It's better than mine." I admit. His head snaps to me.

"What's yours?" He asks. I shake my head and he smirks. "Will twenty bucks do it?"

"Not a chance."

"Worth a try." He gives up easily this time, knowing that the chances of me giving up the information are slim to none. His cocky expression only grows as our friends come closer, but it doesn't look that different from normal anyway.

"Nice entrance, Pierce." He says, then dramatically adds, "Or should I say Miss Grace?"

Immediately her eyes snap to me. "You told him." She accuses.

"He gave me twenty bucks." I explain.

Riley opens her mouth, but then closes it just as quickly. She seems to debate it for a second before shrugging. "That's fair actually." I knew she wouldn't be angry anyway. It's not like her middle name is a closely guarded secret or anything. Now if she told him my middle name, my attitude would be much different.

"No." Stanley corrects. "It's ironic as hell."

"Yeah Yeah I know, tragic middle name. Got it." Riley rolls her eyes. It's kind of amazing just how many jokes can be made from one middle name, but she knows the extent because between Marina and I, she must have heard them all. I don't know if it's insanity or not, but she amazingly still has a sense of humour about it.

"You're right, I don't think I've ever heard anything so tragic."

"Oh please, because Donald is so much better."

Stanley's mouth drops open and so does mine. Wow, he really did not have room to scrutinize anything with a middle name like Donald. And I thought Kelly was bad. Marina tries to hide a smile by looking down. Stanley looks completely betrayed.

"As in the duck?" I ask.

Riley points at me. "That's what I said!"

I can't be bothered to try and stifle my amusement like Marina, laughing as he glares ahead at nothing. A heartbreaker of a guy who shares his name with a cartoon duck. _That's_ what's tragic. He turns to me, looking slightly mortified but mostly just tired.

"I want my twenty bucks back." He demands.

"I'm good with keeping it actually."

I grin when he sighs, suddenly turning his eyes toward Riley.

"I resent you."

"Oh come on. It's only fair."

"It's not fair, it's very _unfair_ actually-"

"Oh look! Joseph is here!" Riley interrupts him with a little too much enthusiasm. Marina's head twists in the direction of the doors before the words are even out of Riley's mouth.

"Calm down, he's not going anywhere." I tease.

Marina looks back, a little red, but not as embarrassed as she used to be. She rolls her eyes and leans against the wall on the other side of me, mimicking my crossed arms. "I know that." She says.

"Oh, and John is here too."

This time it's my head that turns at Riley's words, my eyes catching him walking in beside Joseph. He easily steps over bags and books on the floor and spots us in an instant. He waves and points us out to Joseph as they both start to make their way over.

"Calm down." Marina says quietly next to me, noting my interest. Her tone is the same one I used. "He's not going anywhere."

My eyes flash to hers, shocked at first because she seems to know more about my interests then I do. Then, stupidly, I can't find anything to say. No denials spew from my mouth and no snarky remarks come to mind. I curse myself for just standing there dumbly, especially when I see Marina's smile and I know she has her suspicions. Although I also know that neither Riley or her would ever say anything about it until I open up the conversation. I'm thankful for that because I certainly wouldn't know what to say if they were demanding answers from me now. But they don't.

"I know that." I repeat what Marina said and she laughs lightly, leaving the conversation for another time.

"Hello fellow Garde!" Joseph says cheerily when he stands in front of us. He's grinning and I almost wince at the optimism of this guy. "Ready to win second place?"

I don't want to respond in fear that any words that come from my mouth may be the polar opposite of his attitude. Don't get me wrong, I like him, I'm just not used to being around that much... brightness.

"You betcha." Riley replies just as cheerily, the only one out of all of us to humour him. He seems to appreciate it, pointing at her.

"See? That is the kind of positivity this team needs!" He holds out his hand and they high-five _very_ enthusiastically.

John looks at Riley. "Don't encourage him."

Marina rolls her eyes. "Like he needs encouragement to be like this."

Joseph gasps, putting a hand on his chest. "Insulted by my own girlfriend. I feel betrayed."

"Tragic." I supply.

I see Stanley straighten next to me, interrupting whatever Joseph was about to continue on with, like my voice reminded him of something. "Oh! I forgot to tell you guys, but I have big news." He says with pride.

John looks at me and raises his eyebrows with an otherwise flat expression. 'Doubt it' the look reads. I feel a smile tug at my mouth and I nod. _Agreed._

"Me and Maren bonded."

I nearly choke on nothing but my shock. The smile dies on my lips and my head snaps toward Stanley. He's smirking.

"Oh, that _is_ big news." John grins at my reaction, crossing his arms. "When did this happen?" He asks with obvious amusement.

"When I find out I'll let you know." I tell him. Joseph looks extremely interested.

Marina looks sceptical. "Just so you know, bribing someone for information does not count as bonding."

Joseph's mouth drops open. "You got money for talking to him?" He exclaims in what seems to be outrage. He looks at Stanley. "And here I was hanging out with you all these years for free!"

Joseph seems proud of his retort for a second until Stanley pushes himself from the wall, easily standing a couple inches taller and looking a hell of a lot more intimidating.

"Everybody have a seat!"

The voice of our principle rings through the gym, and I hear Joseph sigh in relief over the noise. There's no chairs in the gym so we all take a seat on the floor, but not before Joseph, Riley and John squeeze into the limited space we have in our spot. John ends up next to me, and I'm thankful for the buffer between Stanley and I, but a bit less satisfied about his closeness to me, which is another distraction all together.

"Alright, lets get this started then..." Our principle continues with the assembly once everyone is seated and relatively quiet.

She starts talking about how proud she is of the money we raised and what it's going towards and I know it'll take a while to get to the actual awards. I stretch out my legs and rest the back of my head against the wall behind me. I hope I don't get too uncomfortable by the time this is over, but I have my doubts.

Next is the random awards, where they basically just pick names out of a bucket to figure out who wins some crappy prize. In my opinion, the effort it takes to get to the stage to receive those awards isn't worth it, so I'm happy when I'm not picked.

Next is the class awards, where the homeroom that sold the most tickets gets a pizza party. Then comes the individual awards until after about forty five minutes of waiting, she gets to the group awards.

"That's us." John nudges me when she calls the category, and I think about rolling my eyes at him until I realize it's a valid assumption that I could be zoned out. He probably had to wake Stanley up.

"You guys have your speeches prepared?" Riley asks as our principle goes on about the success of the teams this year. "I mean, it's a pretty big deal. It's like the Oscars or something."

John shrugs. "I was actually getting more of an Emmys vibe, but maybe that's just me."

"I don't don't know what you're talking about. This is _exactly_ like the Oscars." I add sarcastically. John laughs and Riley leans her head back on the wall with a grin, probably glad I decided to continue her nonsense.

"It's a big deal." She muses.

"Huge." John agrees. "You'll have to carry the team if we win though. I don't think any of us have speeches prepared."

"Oh, don't worry, I've totally got this." Riley clears her throat before taking a dramatic pause, placing a hand on her heart. "First, I would like to thank the academy..."

I roll my eyes and John snorts.

"And the food in my fridge deserves a special thanks, for keeping me alive... because that's ideal." She nods slowly, seeming to run out of ideas already. "Oh and the rain, for always showering me in support."

"Shh, she's announcing third place." Stanley interrupts us from the other side of John, but it doesn't stop Riley from cracking a smile at her own pun.

Up at the front of the gym, our principle gets a drum roll from the audience before announcing, "And third place goes to..." She reads the card and sighs, seemingly disappointed. "Mogadore Sucks." She says flatly. A group of people from the front of the gym cheer and stand up, hugging each other like they actually did win an Oscar.

"Ugh, _that's_ what we should have named our team!" Stanley exclaims and I don't disagree.

It turns out that team wins a few movie tickets and a day off school to go to the theatre in the mall. It's not a bad prize, but doesn't exactly compare to the other two. Once they're done celebrating and have collected their prize, she continues on.

"Second place goes to..." another drum roll sounds when she gestures for one. All of our team is paying attention now. This is what we did this for after all. "The lions."

Even I feel a little disappointed when another teams jumps up and cheers after their name is called. And did this team actually name themselves after our sport teams? They may not have the most creative name but they're obviously better at selling tickets because they're collecting their prize at the front of the gym, and we're still leaning against the wall.

"Wow, I thought we had it." Stanley sighs with obvious disappointment.

"Oh well." John shrugs. "You can't win them all."

"That's shitty advice." Stanley dismisses.

Over his sulking, I barely hear another drum roll start until it's in full swing, the principle holding a card in front of her.

"The Garde!"

None of us jump up or clap for a moment. Instead, we all blink at her, wondering if we heard right. I hear Riley asking Marina if that was for first place, and Marina nods. John and I share a confused look until a cheer sounds from my left, loud compared to the relative silence of the gym. Joseph is the only one from our team standing up, but doesn't seem to be ashamed of it in the least. He turns around, waving at us to get up.

"Come on, we're going skiing!" He says excitedly.

I don't think Marina is prepared to be pulled up but Joseph doesn't seem to care, grabbing her hands and getting her standing while the rest of us pick ourselves up with varying degrees of willingness.

"I guess we don't know our own strength." Stanley comments, dusting himself off as we make our way to the front of the gym. Whatever surprise he was wearing before washes away and all that's left is that constant cocky grin as proceed to the front of the gym. He's clearly pleased with the result.

We don't get tickets for the ski lodge since I'm pretty sure it was booked online. Instead we all get a schedule of what dates we're going to be gone, and what time we will leave. It's over Christmas break. I don't like that we'll have to take a bus.

We head back to our spot and wait for the assembly to be over. Since it took up most of two periods, they just let us go early. In the tight quarters of the exiting crowd, I find John by my side.

"So skiing should be fun." He says optimistically, probably noticing my lack of excitement toward the prospect. He doesn't ask straight up why I have the attitude towards it, but somehow I know that's what he was aiming for with his comment.

"I don't know how to ski." I explain shortly. I look around for anyone else but they seem to have gotten lost in the crowd.

"Well I do." He says, and there's no smugness in it. "I can teach you."

"Thanks, but I was going to do snowboarding anyway."

He narrows his eyes at me and I raise my eyebrows. "Are you doubting my skills as a teacher?"

"Maybe." I say. He lets out an annoyed noise. "Besides, snowboarding just seems more natural." I defend.

"More natural?" He repeats. "No, it's very _unnatural_ for your feet to be strapped together, I don't care what anyone says."

"I bet you're just jealous because you can't do it."

"I could if I tried." He sniffs, and I have to laugh at his offended ruse. "But you know what? Do whatever you want. I can't stop you if you're so inclined to strap a piece of wood on your feet and call it fun, you neanderthal." He flaps a hand at me and I roll my eyes. His vocabulary always seems to expand when he's trying to act snobby, and it helps him pull the act off well. "It's fine though, because I'm just going to enjoy the experience."

"Of what? Skiing?"

"No." He smiles. It's a smug one. "Of finally being better than you at something."

I let out a huff through my nose and John's grin stretches wide. We follow the mass of students through the gym doorway and head to the set that provides us an escape from the building.

"As long as you don't forget everything I'm better at than you." I retort.

He laughs and looks ahead. "Wouldn't dream of it."

We reach the doors and head outside. I can't see Riley and Marina anywhere and since the latter is my ride, I pull to the side to wait. John notices and turns his head.

"It's going to be fun, Maren." He says, his grin full of excitement and words full of optimism. He turns around so he walks backwards, facing me with handsome face and deep blue eyes on full display. "You'll see." He adds confidently.

I breath out a chuckle as he turns back around, leaning my back against the bricks of the school wall as I watch him go.

Yeah, I'll see.

 **Alrighty, that is all for this chapter.**

 **By the way, I know I can't even keep up with this story but I was thinking about starting another one? It wouldn't be an actual plot line story, just one-shots or something to get out my spare ideas before they disappear. And it wouldn't interfere with my updating for this story, kind of like a side project. Anyway, I was just thinking so let me know what you think of it.**

 **Thanks for reading, and I'll be back sometime after exams!**


	19. Chapter 19

**Hey guys! I thought I would have this up earlier but exams got in the way so I did the bulk of the writing this week. I'm really hoping to have the next chapter up quicker, but you all know how that goes...**

 **Reviews:**

 **lorienlegacies96- I don't really know how long it's going to be yet, but it's not ending anytime soon, and it's certainly won't end without some kind of warning for you guys. Thank you for the idea, it's very good and I may have to put it to use if you don't mind :) And I wasn't planning on Maren having an ex-boyfriend because the stuff with John is new for her. Thank you for the kind review and for keeping with the story. I also really like your ideas, I love to hear what people think about the story and where it should go :)**

 **YasiYasi- After I read your review I realized that I haven't addressed it yet, so I put it in this chapter. It's only a little insight but don't worry, there will be more of the subject eventually. Thank you so much for the review, and I hope you continue to enjoy the story :)**

 **I.wish.I.could.be.Number.Five- You always leave such long reviews and I love reading them! Thanks for giving all of your opinions, I really appreciate it to all ends. As for the ideas, you are actually the second person to suggest somebody from Riley's past show up, so I guess there is a good chance of it happening :) Maren's past is also something that I planned to expand on more, so that suggestion is definitely something I'll keep in mind! Thanks again for the review and ideas :)**

 **Guest- Sorry, no John and Maren in this chapter, but there'll be more couple action going on in the next, I promise! Thank you for the review!**

 **As always, thanks everyone for reading and reviewing. Reading what you guys think always makes my day! Sorry that there's really not a lot of any pairings going on in this chapter, but there will be next chapter.**

 **Anyway, that's it from me, read on :)**

 **Marina**

"You're going to kill yourself."

"Stop saying that. I'm not going to kill myself."

"Yes you are. You're going to fall and die."

"Maren, I literally do this every year."

"Well your house is like ten feet off the ground. This is different."

"The only thing that's different is that it's a bigger ladder."

Maren snorts as she tilts her head back to keep track of Riley, who is currently near the top of what must be a twenty foot ladder, holding a bundle of Christmas lights in one hand, clutching to the edge of the roof with the other. It's my house that we're decorating because my aunts are coming over in a couple days and would be appalled if no Christmas lights were up. I'm scared of heights, Mom obviously couldn't be bothered, Ella is too young, and Maren... well she just didn't want to do it. That left Riley. I told her multiple times not to do it, but after a few times of getting "Nah, this will be a piece of cake" as a response, I gave in. I'm kind of regretting the decision now though.

"Yeah, and it's a different house, different lights, different weather..." Maren goes on and I watch as Riley stretches to the left to click in a patch of lights. I suck in a worried breath. "Different probability of death..." Maren continues with a smirk. I hit her arm and she shrugs innocently.

"Hey, I've totally got this. There's nothing to worry about." Riley calls back down. At that moment, the ladder suddenly shudders into a shifted position due to her leaning, and she thrusts the other hand to the roof ledge to hang on. My hand shoots out and grips Maren's arm as I have half a heart attack. Riley is silent for a moment. "That was bad timing."

Maren crosses her arms, seemingly amused. "So do you want me to start writing your eulogy now or later?"

"I trust your judgment."

I send a warning look to both of them. "Nobody is writing a eulogy." I insist. Riley shrugs and stands back up straight again. She doesn't seem to notice when the ladder shifts with her, but I wince. I lean over to Maren and quietly add, "Yet."

"You know, I'm really glad you already have these click-in things on the house. Makes it way easier." Riley says as she clicks in another section of lights, oblivious to my comment.

I tilt my head to the side so it's easier to look up at her. "What do you usually use then?"

"Hammer and nails."

My eyes widen but I see Maren clench her jaw to hold in a laugh, probably thinking of how funny it would be if our friend had to maneuver up the ladder with lights and nails. She finishes clicking the lights in as far as she can reach and starts to come down so she can move the ladder.

There's not much snow on the ground right now, but the impression our boots make in the snow is easy to see. It only snowed yesterday, hence the rush to put up the lights before we get more. Around here, it's not winter until it's winter. But when winter comes, we're basically just thrust into the season without any gradualism. It's not exactly that we get a lot of snow, it just gets cold super quick, and since we live by the ocean, it's a damp kind of cold. It's weird because just a week ago I was standing outside in a hoodie and sneakers, and now I'm in a jacket and boots and everyone is putting their Christmas lights up. It's only the beginning of December.

Riley climbs the ladder again once she's moved it's position, starting the dangerous maneuvers again with little to no worry. Bored, Maren picks up some snow from the ground and works it into a ball with gloved hands.

"R, catch." She tosses the snowball up before I can tell her not to.

Riley turns just in time to shoot out her hand and grab it, leaning back enough to have me suck in another breath. Maren laughs and Riley grins, happy that she manages to catch nearly everything anyone throws at her. Goalie reflexes I guess.

"Please don't." I chide worriedly.

Maren catches the snowball when Riley drops it back down and immediately tosses it up for me to catch. I don't notice until all I have time to do is let it bounce off my hand in a hasty attempt to catch it.

"Stupid sporty people." I complain while I dust off my gloves.

"You were a sporty person once." Maren reminds me, picking up another bit of snow.

I give her a look. "It was a different kind of sport."

"Oh, _that's_ what we should do!" Riley suddenly exclaims from the top of the ladder. "We should make a skating rink!"

Maren raises an eyebrow to go along with her crossed arms as she watches Riley descend from the ladder once again. "As if we need more hazards for you." She flicks the new snowball at her lightly, leaving excess snow stuck on her flannel jacket. Maren and I actually have proper winter jackets on, but between the plaid and the faded jeans, Riley looks like she's about to go cut some lumber. She moves the ladder again and this time we follow since she's gone a little too far away. Plus, my feet are getting cold standing in the one spot.

"There's not really enough snow yet anyway." I reason, even though we could probably accomplish the task in the ankle-deep snow if we really tried. It's honestly too much work to pack down all the snow, and since we don't have a tarp, it would take a lifetime to get it hard enough to hold water.

"Yeah." Riley admits, grunting a bit as she has to stretch dangerously to hook in the lights, but she doesn't notice. That girl has serious problems in the common sense part of her brain. "A snowman then." She suggests.

Maren snorts. "What are we? Five?"

"Hey!" Riley turns around so fast the ladder shifts quite a bit, and even Maren's eyes widen. She takes a hand off the roof to point at Maren. "Nobody is too old to build a snowman."

Maren smirks, putting her hands up in a surrendering gesture until Riley turns around again, apparently satisfied. As soon as Riley stops looking I watch Maren's expression fall quickly and her breath fogs in front of her as she lets it out a little heavier than normal. I have a feeling she only agreed so Riley could get back to focusing on her balance.

Maren and I both turn our heads as the front door opens and mom steps out. I remember she has a shift today. She doesn't see us as she turns around to lock the door, so I wave a hand.

"You don't have to lock it." I call. She looks our way and Maren waves a little at her surprised expression. I guess she hadn't been expecting us to be hanging out outside considering the new season.

"Oh." She says, taking her hand away from the door and starting toward the driveway. "Why are you guys-" Her voice and steps falter when she notices Riley on the highest rung of the ladder. I watch her eyebrows furrow. "What is she doing?"

Maren smirks, looking up at our friend who has already gone back to her task after a brief notice of the new development. "Being an idiot." She replies.

"She's putting up Christmas lights." I clarify.

Mom's eyebrows shoot up and I can't blame her. The last person to put Christmas lights on the house was Dad after all. "Oh." She repeats.

I nod and shove my hands in my pockets, looking at the snow on my shoes. Even Maren -who I'm not sure knows the word 'uncomfortable'- clears her throat, unsure. There's an awkward silence for a moment until our resident tension-relieving expert speaks up from the ladder.

"You know, Miss T, these click-in things are pretty handy." Riley takes one foot off the rung so she can turn sideways, still holding onto the roof with one hand. I refrain from yelling at her to be careful for the hundred time, and instead settle for holding my breath as her foot dangles a tad too far for my liking. She smiles like the awkwardness was never there. "Where'd you get them?" She asks.

Mom appears to think for a moment. Eventually she shakes her head. "I don't know. Cray is the one who bought them." She shrugs and I swallow my surprise at her bringing up Dad.

"Oh okay." Riley nods, still smiling. "Well, if you find out could you let me know? Because I think my hammering skills are past the point of improvement." She jokes.

Mom only smiles tightly, glancing back at the car, no doubt deciding she's stayed long enough. "Be careful, Riley."

R grins and shakes her head. "Why does everyone keep saying that?" Mom turns to go, but I can hear her chuckle on the way to the car. It startles me for a second, and I realize it's because I haven't heard her laugh in a while. "Have a good shift!" Riley calls.

She sends a wave without looking and gets in the car. Riley starts again with the lights while Mom backs out of the driveway. As soon as she's gone, Riley spins back around with raised eyebrows, displaying that she was only doing it to look casual. Maren looks in the direction the car went and then at me.

"Does she know about Joseph?" She asks.

"Kind of." I reply.

Riley looks confused. "How can she _kind o_ f know? You either told her or you didn't."

I sigh as she starts to climb down. "She knows he exists." I correct. "And she met him once, but it was before we were dating."

Considering her reaction the first and only time Mom met the guy, I've become extremely more careful about when I bring him to the house. I make sure she's gone, and leave way before she's supposed to come back.

"So she doesn't know you guys are together?" Maren asks. Riley moves the ladder and starts the climb again. "Are you going to tell her?"

"I don't really see the point." I say, and it's true. Telling her would just be a waste of my time as far as I'm concerned. I'll tell her if she cares enough to ask, but I wouldn't say it's the first thing on her to-do list.

"Why? You think she won't like him?"

Riley scoffs at Maren's question. "Nobody can _not_ like Joseph."

"You're only saying that because you're like the female version of him."

Riley coughs in surprise and I have to laugh because I kind of agree, though I can definitely see parts of them that are very unalike too. "That is not true!" She protests, but not looking back because she's probably grinning too.

"Oh I don't know." I say. "His favourite colour is green..." I trail of, knowing they have that in common.

"No it's not." Riley says disbelievingly from the roof. Maren is laughing.

"It is."

"Oh God." She presses her forehead to the edge of the roof, seemingly in despair. "Well I guess that settles it then."

"Hey, there's worse people to be like." I offer.

"Yeah, you're right." She agrees, going back to hooking in the lights after her exaggerated epiphany. "I mean, I could be like Maren. And that would just be-" A well-aimed snowball to her back cuts off her words. She's unsurprisingly not mad, only turning around with a laugh as Maren dusts off her hands. "I expected that." She admits. Seeing a raised eyebrow from Maren, she smirks. "You should really work on your aim though. The hit was a little bit off center."

The next snowball hits Riley in the back of the head.

 **John**

"This one!" Joseph points at a large tree with a huge grin on his face. I look the plant up and down for a moment before glancing at him.

"You do know that thing is taller than my ceiling, right?" I say.

Joseph's arm drops. "Well I do now."

He continues walking, disappearing into another section of the tree farm while Stanley comes out of an aisle right next to me, looking bored.

"You know, Costco has a really good selection of trees." He says, pointing a small tree branch at me.

"Dad wants a real tree." I explain for what must be the tenth time since we arrived fifteen minutes ago.

"Why?" He complains. He tries to hit me with the floppy tree branch but I snatch it from his hand before he can, letting it fall to the ground. "They're always so messy. Plastic doesn't leave a mess." He continues, apparently indifferent about the confiscation of his weapon.

"Dad wants a real tree." I repeat even though I know my father couldn't care less about the material of a decorated plant in our living room. Mom liked having real trees, so every year we get a real tree.

"Eh, whatever dude." Instead of attempting to understand the extremely simple concept, Stanley just chooses to ignore it. Shoving his hands in the pockets of his un-zipped coat, he turns from side to side, seemingly confused. "Where's Joseph?"

I look at him, exasperated for a moment because we're at a Christmas tree farm, and he only seems to absorb that fact when it comes to complaining about it. "Looking for a tree." I say.

"Oh." Stanley replies. "Well, we better not lose him."

"How would he even get lost?"

"I don't know, Johnny. He might think it's a forest."

I continue my search without responding to that.

"Hey! I think I found one!" It's Joseph's voice that rings through the farm, making several people turn their heads at the volume.

I start toward the noise with Stanley reluctantly in tow. I don't know why he chose to come along in the first place, but he's here now wether it convenient or not. I honestly find the scene quite nice. The air around us is frosty and it smells like snow and pine needles. There's also a certain level of satisfaction that comes with feeling the cold on my face but not under my jacket, or the way my speech is visible as a fog in the air. It's tranquil actually.

We reach Joseph, who gestures to his new choice of tree with flourish. He's so excited he's found something that I don't have the heart to tell him this one is far too short. I nod and smile. "Good job. It's definitely a contender."

"I knew it." Joseph replies with obvious pride, giving his selection a once over. "Shall we nail down the other finalists?" He asks. It seems his determination can't be tamed after one right move, so I nod.

"Lead the way."

Joseph immediately gets looking again, rubbing his mitten-covered hands together and scrunching up his shoulders. If that doesn't display his discomfort in the temperature enough, he's also buried in his wool cap and jacket zippered right up to his chin. He looks absolutely freezing, and I start to think his motivation to find the right tree may be on account of getting some warmth. While I wear a toque and have a pair of gloves on, my jacket is open at the neck and is pale in comparison to Joseph's attire. He's never liked the cold, poor guy.

"Hey, what about this one, Johnny?" Stanley stops next to a tree that's shorter than me and almost see-through. He waggles his eyebrows. "Quite the charmer isn't she?"

I chuckle, not feeling nearly as bad when I say no to him. He's clearly not suffering as much as Joseph in the cold, his jacket unzipped fully and a hat haphazardly covering his ears. I'm pretty sure he only wore gloves because I told him he'd have to help carry the tree if we got one.

Up ahead, Joseph has stopped smiling, constantly rubbing his hands together. "So, how are you and Marina going?" I ask him, mostly to distract him from the cold which he seems so affected by.

It works and he grins at once, slowing down so he can walk closer to us. "She's too good for me." He says, shaking his head. "Did you know she can cook? Like really good."

"Well I hope you spare her from any of your cooking." Stanley says dramatically. "The poor girl already deals with enough from you."

"Hey, my cooking is good!" Joseph defends.

"Whatever." Stanley dismisses. Joseph seems like he's ready to continue his defence but Stanley points to a tree. "Hey, this one is good!"

I tilt my head at his selection. It's actually not too bad considering his insistence to leave. "Alright, it's a finalist." I say. Stanley seems surprised but doesn't mention it, only sticking his tongue out at Joseph to display his competitiveness.

"It's not better than mine though, right John?" Joseph asks.

I pause, conflicted because Stanley's choice is better. "I think it's a tie." I finally decide. The lie is to spare Joseph's feelings, but it seems to only makes him more determined. Strangely Stanley is more into the hunt after that too, and they both go their separate ways immediately, each one hoping to find the best tree faster than the other.

I start in my own direction after they leave, walking through numerous tress that I deem either too tall, too short, or too thick or thin. I know it might sound picky, but it was always a big thing for Mom, so I feel like the least I can do is put a bit of effort into the task. It's just the respectful thing to do.

"Got one!"

"Me too!"

I can't see either of my friends but I can hear their shouts from two different directions in the small area. I try to decide which direction to yell in before giving up and just calling out in a random direction, feeling like I'm shouting into the void.

"Make sure they're not shorter than me!" I call. I wait for a response but after hearing none, I assume both their findings didn't meet the expectations. I go back to my own search with my hands in my pocket.

I walk down the aisle for a bit before turning a corner and seeing a familiar face talking to someone with a smile. Sarah Hart looks like she's helping a customer when I look. I don't know her that well but I talk to her sometimes in a couple of my classes.

As I look at her I'm suddenly reminded of something Maren once said about everyone in the school having a label. When I asked her what I was she had just looked at me weird. "You're the school's one and only nice jock." She had said and I laughed. I forgot to ask her what she labeled herself as.

Well, if everyone in the school has a label like Maren believes, Sarah Hart must be the school sweetheart. She's nice to everyone and I've never seen her without a smile, and she's often never without a camera either. She doesn't have one now, which looks weird to me, but I guess it would be even more weird to bring one to work.

She finishes talking to the people and spots me, still smiling kindly. I wave and she ambles over. "So I guess you work here?" I ask. She shrugs as we walk along.

"Not really. My Dad does so I kind of just come to help people out." She explains. "Speaking of which, I heard you were looking for a tree."

I feel my eyebrows furrow and I look down at her. She's shorter than Maren. "How'd you hear that?"

She laughs a little, looking around and reaching a hand up to shift the wool hat on her head. Long blond hair spills out from all sides. "Your friends are pretty loud."

"Oh, right." I say. I don't mind talking to her because she's easy to make conversation with. She never crosses any lines and she always seems to know what she's talking about. "Well, do you have any suggestions?" I ask.

"Hmm, I don't know, I've only been around the place a hundred times..." She jokes. I chuckle while she nods her head in the direction of one of the aisles, smiling. "Come on, I've got one in mind."

I follow her around a few turns, reminded of when Maren led me through the grocery store. Sarah helps me without complaint, and I know Maren would too but not before a fair bit of teasing.

Sarah stops in front of a tree and I look it up and down, finding that it's almost a perfect height with full branches and a nice shape. It's the best one I've seen out of the finalists I've picked out, and I know it's the one I'll get.

"You make it seem so easy." I tease. Her response is interrupted by my friend's shouts, again from two different directions in the area. How do they both manage to find trees at the exact same time?

"Found one!"

"Same here!"

Sarah laughs as they both shout out their success at the same time, and I roll my eyes. "It's alright, I got one!" I shout back. I can hear faint sounds of disappointment but there are no arguments. They both must be eager to leave.

"So, I'll go get someone to help you out?" Sarah asks. I'm about to say yes until the voice of my friend cuts me off.

"No need, Darlin." Stanley appears out of nowhere, kind of startling me with how fast he managed to find us. He saunters down the aisle with a smirk, most likely noting my surprise. He stops by the tree and points at it. "This one?"

I nod and without another word, he pulls it from its' place with two hands. "Wait, someone is supposed to wrap that for you-" Sarah starts to correct his actions but let's her words fall when he hefts the tree up and begins walking with purpose toward the counter. "Alright then." She says, watching him go with a chuckle. I roll my eyes at him yet again.

"Sorry about him." I say, shaking my head. "And thanks for helping me find something, I probably would have been here forever otherwise."

"Don't worry about it." She replies kindly. She looks around and notices a couple of people to our left.

"Duty calls, huh?"

She laughs, turning back to me with a guilty smile. "Yeah it does. I'll see you when school starts up again, John." She starts backing up.

"Okay, see you later." I wave and only then does she turn around.

I jog to catch up to Stanley, who moves surprisingly quick for a quy carrying a tree that's bigger than him. I run into Joseph on the way and we both continue until we walk next to him. He accepts my offer to carry half the tree.

"Dude, was that Sarah Hart?" He asks.

"Yes."

"Thought so. You know, I might try with her if she wasn't so into you."

I look back in shock. She's into me? I know Marina hinted at that too once but I've never gotten that vibe from Sarah. As far as I know she's friendly like that to everyone, it's not like I'm some kind of exception.

"I really don't think she is." I dismiss. Stanley only grunts but I don't look back to see his expression, which is probably sour, evidence of his disagreement.

Even if Sarah was 'into me', I don't know if I would be interested. Sure she's nice, and obviously very pretty, but I don't know. Everything just seems too comfortable with her, too polite. I can see her natural goodness, her drive to be kind and to make everyone feel welcomed, and she does. Maybe that's why I don't feel anything, because her kindness is on full display all the time. As opposed to Maren, who chooses her acts of kindness carefully and then tries to ignore the fact she did anything at all. Plus, Maren is a different kind of pretty. More hard edges than warm smiles.

Suddenly, I realize what I've been doing. The entire time I was talking the Sarah, I was silently comparing her to Maren. I'm already painfully aware that I like Maren, but what does that mean for my opinion of Sarah? _Do I like her too? Am I just trying to justify not liking her? Am I comparing them both to find out who's better?_ All of these things run through my head and by the time I give up on finding the answers, we arrive at checkout and I feel like an ass for even wondering about the queries.

I push the thoughts from my mind as I take in the cashier's confused expression as he watches us lumber over with the tree in hand. When you choose a tree you're supposed to get somebody to come to the spot and wrap the limbs together so it's easier to carry. I suppose it's not a common sight to see somebody taking their tree right from it's place and bringing it to the counter, branches spread wide in its full glory. Well, Stanley has always been a bit of the rebellious kind, even when it comes to disobeying the guidelines in a Christmas tree farm apparently. Come to think of it, his actions may have more to do with pride.

"You couldn't find anyone to wrap it for you?" The cashier asks when we stand in front of him, Stanley standing the tree up with such force I fear he may be trying to replant the thing.

"Nah, we don't need that." Stanley dismisses with a wave before I can say that yes, wrapping the limbs up would probably be helpful. "Let's just pay for the damn thing, shall we?" He's grinning, obviously proud of his petty rebellion. The cashier nods and tells me the price.

When I'm done paying, Stanley wastes no time putting the tree up on his shoulder, beginning a stride toward the car with a bunch of branches in his face. He declines any offers of help and I realize why when he waves to a group of girls at the entrance. It seems that he thinks being able to lift an entire tree casually on one shoulder puts on quite the show. It _is_ a pretty big tree, but I have a feeling this display has to do with hinting at the size of something else. Joseph looks at me and rolls his eyes. I nod.

"Got any rope, Johnny?" Stanley asks when we get to the car.

I resist the urge to inform him that I'm not an idiot, and anyone whose planning on tying something onto the roof of their car logically brings a rope on the journey. Instead I just open up the back door and pull the mess of rope from the back seat. Stanley basically throws the tree on top of the car, dusting off his hands afterward.

"Wait..." Joseph tilts his head to the side, squinting his eyes a little. "Isn't the tree supposed to face the other way?"

I sigh because he's right, the trunk of the tree is supposed to be facing forward, and Stanley put that part on the back of the car. He allows us to help him change its' position on the vehicle since there are no ladies around he feels the need to impress at the moment.

We tie the tree to the rack on the roof of the car, jumping inside with a sigh of relief from Joseph when the heat kicks in. "I think I want to hibernate." He says randomly, looking determined. "Skipping all this seems ideal."

"Good luck with that, Joe." Stanley reaches up from the back seat and claps Joseph on the shoulder with mock enthusiasm. I sigh loudly as I look out the windshield. "What's wrong?" Stanley asks.

"You should have let him wrap it?" I explain.

"Why?"

I shoot him a look. "Do you really need to ask that question?"

He finally looks at the windshield, where my view of the road is replaced with a cluster of green covered branches. "Oh. Well, I mean... your house is only like, what? Ten minutes away? Just uh... drive by looking out the windows."

"Stanley."

"Yeah?"

"Go get somebody to help."

"Yeah."

 **Maren**

Riley whistles as we walk up the walkway to Marina's house, the lights on the house making the snow on the lawn look like Christmas threw up on it. It's only just getting dark now but they're still a bit too bright for my liking.

"The house sure looks nice." She admires her handy work with a smile.

"You said that last time." I mutter. "And the time before that..."

"But this time it's special." She insists, then with a hint of melodrama, "There's magic in the air."

I arch an eyebrow at scene around us. "There's snow in the air." I correct flatly.

Riley rolls her eyes and nudges me with her shoulder, obviously not noting how little space there is within the shovelled part of the walkway. The snow is only up to the middle of my calf but I still wouldn't like to step in it. "You know what I mean." She says, grinning. "It's Christmas, Maren."

"Yes, I think I've picked up on that." I reply, squinting up at the lights twinkling in the house.

"You could be just a little happy."

"I was." I defend. "But then I heard jingle bells for the hundredth time and now I'm just annoyed."

"Well be un-annoyed!" She says cheerfully. "Because-"

"It's Christmas!" I interrupt with mock enthusiasm, though I make sure to keep my expression flat.

Riley grins as we reach the door. "Now you're getting it."

She reaches up and knocks on the door while I roll my eyes. I can hear an exchange of yelling going on inside which I assume to be a debate about who's going to open the door. It opens a few moments after, Ella standing there, grimacing at the cold.

"Merry Christmas!" Riley rushes in and in mere seconds Ella is engulfed in red flannel as she's wrapped in a tight hug. She laughs as Riley rocks from side to side, pulling Ella along with her movements. I chuckle and close the door behind me when I walk in.

I smile as Ella, now released from her entrapment, comes over to me, hugging me too. I put one arm around her, squeezing her shoulder gently before she lets go, wishing me Merry Christmas. I'm not the sentimental type, but when a kid as good as Ella gives you a hug, it's really a crime not to respond.

Riley and I both take off our jackets and boots, and she starts walking into the kitchen with a purpose. "Hey, Mar! Guess what?" She calls.

"It's Christmas?" Marina replies.

"It's Christmas!"

I roll my eyes and I picture Marina doing the same, though she probably finds a bit more amusement in her excitement than me. We always come over to Marina's for a bit on Christmas Day just to see each other since we usually don't even get gifts for each other. Once we realized that the money we spent on gift cards for each other just ended up equalling out, we agreed to stop it. We usually do bring something over for Ella though, most times something to do with her art, like professional drawing pencils or a kit or something. This year we got her this special paper that's supposed to be made just for lead drawings. All I know is that it's a weird material and twenty sheets were fifty bucks and we got her two packs. Both Riley and I payed for one each. She hugs us both again when we give it to her and immediately runs up to their room to try it out.

When I follow Riley into the kitchen I find Marina behind the little bar-like section of counter they have, with stools on one side and the kitchen on the other. She's cutting vegetables. Riley gives her a half-hug even though we all saw each other literally two days ago.

"Merry-"

"Do not finish that." I warn, and Marina raises her eyebrows as I interrupt her greeting. "I swear, if I hear that word one more time I'm going to throw up."

Marina chuckles and Riley rolls her eyes, coming back around to sit in the stool next to mine with a grin. "And will that happen before or _after_ you steal Christmas?" She teases. I glare at her while Marina laughs, but I can feel myself smiling, finally giving into her excitement. She seems pleased at that before turning to Marina. "Do you need any help?"

"Uh..." Marina looks around her workspace as though it will give her some answers. "Well someone can help me peel carrots and somebody can peel potatoes." She says, and I notice she's just started with the carrots.

Riley looks like she's about to choose, but I cut in. "I'm doing the carrots."

"Ugh, I was going to choose that." She whines.

"I know."

I get up from my stool and go over to the sink to wash my hands while I hear the continued grumbles of my friend behind me. Marina directs me to a peeling tool in the drawer and Riley wrinkles her nose at me because she has to use a "boring knife". I just start my duties when Marina's phone buzzes from the edge of the counter. She looks down at her hands and then mine, sighing.

"Riley can you check that?" She finally says. Riley -now the only person with clean hands- walks over, grabbing the phone and immediately sitting down on a stool again. She arches an eyebrow.

"It's from Joseph." She says, and it sounds like a warning. "You sure I'm not going to witness any obscene images?" She waggles her eyebrows and I hold in a laugh as Marina clears her throat in surprise, ever the saint.

"No, he doesn't do that." She says.

"I wouldn't judge." Riley replies honestly, and way too casually.

"Experience?" I tease. She winks jokingly and I laugh.

She types the password into Marina's phone and sighs when she opens the text app, seemingly disappointed. "Sorry Mar, it's just a text. No pictures for you today."

"Bummer." Marina replies sarcastically.

Riley starts reading out the text. " _Hey Sea Girl_." She pauses and tilts her head at the screen, a giggle accompanying her words as she says, "Aw, that's really cute."

Marina sighs. "Please continue."

Riley grins but does as she says, this time with no interruptions. " _Hope you are having a good Christmas Day._ And there's a smiley face." As soon as she's finished reading, the phone buzzes with another text. " _It's no rush but call me when you get the chance._ " Riley looks up, ready to comment on it, but the phone buzzes in her hand again and she looks down at it. I find amusement in how she tries not to be irritated by the frequent messages. " _Oh, and tell Ella I said hi._ "

Marina looks at the ceiling. "Joseph says hi." She yells. I can hear a muffled 'tell him hi', but there's nothing else. I guess she's still using her Christmas gift.

Riley opens her mouth to speak but the phone buzzes again and she sends a threatening expression down to the screen for interrupting her. " _And Maren and Riley too_."

"Did you tell him we were coming over?" I ask.

Marina chuckles. "No, I guess he just assumed."

Riley laughs, her irritation disappearing quickly after the message. "I can take over the carrots if you want to call him." She offers.

Marina shakes her head. "Call him and put him on speaker." She gestures to the phone with the knife and Riley eyes it.

"Is that a threat?"

"Just call him."

Riley chuckles and goes into her contacts to call him. The phone only rings once before he answers, his voice as cheerful over the phone as I know it would be in person.

"Marina of the Sea!"

Riley smiles again at the nickname and I'm only amused because of how much excitement he's able to put behind a single greeting.

"You're on speaker." Marina informs him as she continue with her work, prompting me to as well.

"Oh, hey Riley. Hey Maren." He says. "Kind of thought you would all be together."

"Must be a couples intuition." Riley jokes, causing Marina to roll her eyes.

"Obviously." Joseph replies.

"Why did you want me to call you?" Marina gets back on track and I can almost hear the smirk in Joseph's voice when he responds.

"Maybe I just wanted to hear your voice."

"Right." Marina says flatly, but she's smiling.

Joseph laughs and relents. "Okay yeah, I-" suddenly he stops talking and I hear muffled conversation in the background. "Yeah, it's her." He says, then after a couple seconds, "No, I can handle this on my own... _Yes_ I can- no, don't throw that at me."

"Is this a bad time?" Marina chuckles.

"No! No, this is great. Stanley is just being an idiot- Ow! I told you not to throw that at me!" A sigh is audible. "I'm going to the other room... Because you suck, that's why." It sounds like he runs somewhere and there's a click of what I assume to be a door closing. "Sorry about that. John and Stanley said hi by the way."

"Tell Stanley to piss off." I reply.

"The girls said hi!" He shouts to his friends. Marina and Riley laugh, but I roll my eyes. "Anyway, I have summoned you to propose an idea." He explains, finally getting to the point, which I think Marina is thankful for.

"Which is?" She presses.

"Instead of taking the bus out to the ski hill, Stanley wants to drive." He pauses. "As in drive all of us."

"Oh?" Marina raises an eyebrow. I'm more worried because I'm not sure I trust Stanley to pull out of a parking space, much less drive a car-load of people on the highway for eight hours. "Can his truck fit everybody?" She continues.

"No, we'd have to take two vehicles." He admits. "We can't take John's because it's his Dad's car and mine is in the garage. So we were hoping one of you would volunteer." He says hopefully, but quickly adds, "But you totally don't have to agree if you don't want to. Because taking the bus is alright with all of us, it was just an idea. Plus it's really inconvenient to take two vehicles anyway."

Marina and I both look at each other, and then at Riley at the same time. She glances up, confused. "What?"

"Doesn't Mavis seat eight people?" Marina says, using the van's nickname.

"Who's Mavis?" Joseph asks.

"Yeah, but it's been ages since she been on the highway." Riley ignores Joseph's question, looking unconvinced. "I'm not sure she can even get up to a hundred kilometres an hour anymore." At least she's aware of her van's issues. But if I'm honest, choosing between Stanley's driving and a janky van isn't exactly a dilemma for me.

"Oh, it's your van." Joseph clues in. We pay no attention to the phone sitting on the counter.

"I trust the van." I say.

Riley laughs. "You have never said that in your life."

"I trust the van more than Stanley's driving." I correct, remembering his motorcycle weaving through the cars in the school parking lot.

A chuckle comes from the phone. "That's a fair point."

Riley sighs and looks out the window at her vehicle in the driveway, as if she's deciding wether it's worthy enough to make the trip by sight alone. "Fine, but it's at your own risk." She relents.

Joseph whoops from the phone even though he's witnessed first-hand the jittery roughness that is Riley's driving. I'm happy too though, because it has to be better then spending eight hours on a bus or under Stanley's driving skills.

"I guess I'll let everyone know the plan then." Joseph says enthusiastically, but what doesn't sound enthusiastic when he's involved anyway? "Thanks Riley!" He adds brightly.

"Don't thank me just yet." She mutters quietly. He doesn't hear.

I can hear the click again and I assume he's walking back to wherever his friends are. "Hey, Riley said she'll drive us all out in her van!"

By the new clearness of the voices, I can tell he's closer to them than he was before. There's a quiet, "Oh cool" from John. Then a louder, clearly panicked voice cuts in. "Wait, what?". It's Stanley.

Joseph clears his throat as arguments can be heard in the background. "Anyway, See you Maren, Riley. Catch you later, Sea Girl." He hangs up before any of us can say goodbye. Marina and I look at Riley.

"When was Stanley in your car?" Marina asks since it's clear from his reaction that he's had some experience with it.

"When he came over for math tutoring sometime last month. I think he was a bit scared on the drive over." Riley chuckles. She stands up and gets a knife out of a drawer while Marina gives her directions to the potatoes.

"So how's that going?" I ask her. She heft's a bag of potatoes onto the counter with an exaggerated grunt, and I can't tell if it was because of the weight or the question.

"The Stanley thing?" She shakes her head. "Yeah that's done. I'm over it." She sighs, and I can tell she's not lying.

Marina looks up in shock. "When did that happen?"

"When he came over for math tutoring sometime last month." She repeats with a shrug. My hands stop their work and I feel my eyebrows shoot up, feeling defensive for her.

"What did he do to you?" I demand.

Her eyebrows furrow and she starts skinning the potatoes over the garbage can. "Nothing really?" She glances over, her expression clearing when she sees my raised eyebrows and stalled work. "He didn't do anything bad, don't worry." She clarifies with a chuckle. Now Marina seems confused.

"Something had to happen." Now that I'm started my cutting again, she stops hers. "I mean, how long did that crush last? Two months?"

"Not even two!" Riley replies proudly, not aware that this isn't a situation for pride. "See? I told you it wouldn't last long."

"That wasn't the point." Marina says.

"Oh right." Riley gets her ideas straight again. "Like I said, nothing exactly happened. He was just being his normal self and I got sick of the flirting." She shrugs. "I mean, he's a good friend and all but it's just relentless."

"Never saw that coming at all." I mutter.

"But yeah, anyway that's it. On to the next one, right?" Riley jokes. I'm not sure she heard what I said.

"What an optimistic approach." Marina teases.

"I mean, I got to keep my options open."

I snort. "Of course, now that you're not interested in anyone the propositions will be endless."

"I know right?" Riley sighs dramatically. "How will I ever be able to fend everyone off?"

"I think just wearing your coat will do the trick." I suggest. "Nobody wants to date a lumberjack."

She throws a potato peel at me around a chuckling Marina, but it lands on the counter instead of hitting me. Then she shrugs. "I wouldn't mind dating a lumberjack."

We continue getting the vegetables ready until Marina says it's enough, and then we just sit down for two hours until supper is done. Riley and I don't actually eat here, but there's always enough food for her to take some home since neither of us can be bothered to do the whole Christmas Dinner thing.

"Are you sure you don't want any, Maren?" Marina asks me as Riley packs hers into a container.

"No thanks, I'm just gonna get some take-out and bring it over to Mom on her break." I say. Mom didn't work on Christmas last year and since the nurses take turns rotating who works on holidays, it's her turn this year.

"Ugh." Ella groans, having come back down about an hour ago. She rests the side of her head on a fist propped up on the counter. "Do you even realize how many days I'll be eating leftovers?" She shakes her head but then her eyes widen and she looks at Marina. "Not that it's bad or anything." She adds hastily.

"Right." Marina chuckles.

"Well _I_ love leftovers." Riley says, which is obvious by the way she now filling up her fourth container of food. But it's a big turkey so there's tons to go around.

"Great, so we'll just ship it all over to you since Ella hates it so much." Marina shoots a look at Ella, smirking when her sister begins to explain herself.

"I didn't say that! I just meant that it's a lot and it's not as good heated up in the microwave-"

"Keep digging that hole, Ella." I tease. She sighs and gives up.

"Your cooking is great, Mar." She tries, defeated.

"Uh huh."

I smile at them before turning on my stool and looking toward the window, my mood turning sour when I see the snow falling outside in huge flakes. "Is it still snowing?" I complain.

Marina looks over from behind the counter, shrugging. "Looks like it."

"Ugh, I have to drive to the hospital in that." I groan. Marina looks amused at my complaining but Riley rolls her eyes. She was subject to it on the way over and will be on the way back too.

"Alright, that's enough negativity from you." She chides, stacking her containers in an unsteady tower. "I think it's about time I drove you back to Mount Crumpit."

Ella and Marina laugh but I look at Riley with raised eyebrows, halfway between tired and threatening. "Riley, if I hear one more Grinch joke..." I warn.

"It was only two." She defends, laughing. "Plus I think you guys would be good friends, since your personalities match and all."

I stare at her flatly but she just grins, undeterred. "What is it with you and Christmas anyway?" I hope to change the subject, taking another glance out the window in hope the snow has stopped. No such luck. "I mean, the whole thing is just over the top and the lights are too bright."

Marina laughs. "Oh God, you really are the Grinch." She says, leaning on the counter.

"Yeah, I'll let you know if I start growing any green hair." I mutter as Riley starts picking up her containers.

She arches an eyebrow teasingly at me as she walks past. "Now who's making jokes?"

"Shut up."

I follow her out to the porch where she puts the food in a bag she brought for that purpose. I put on my coat and boots while Marina and Ella come to see us out. Riley thanks her for the food and Ella thanks us for the gift again. I grimace at snow on the walkway when I open the door.

"More shovelling when I get home."

Riley nods. "Ba humbug and all that."

"R-"

"It wasn't a Grinch joke!"

 **Hey guys, that's it. The ski trip starts next chapter so I promise there'll be more couple stuff going on then! Thanks for reading and let me know what you think :)**


	20. Chapter 20

**Hey guys!**

 **Yup, more crappy updating. What was it this time? A month? More? In my defence I was away from home for various reasons during the past month, but I'm sorry anyway as always.**

 **Reviews:**

 **lorienlegacies96- Thanks so much for reviewing and always leaving ideas, I seriously love to see what people come up with. As for the ideas: a) Good idea. Something like that may certainly help them work out their issues! b) Yeah, I'm trying to get them to have a little bit more time together lately because I just feel like they need time to learn how to get along, so more of that will be coming. c) First of all, great idea, I'd like to read something like that too! The problem is with truth or dare is that I kind of suck at playing the game in real life, so I feel like writing it wouldn't be a good fit. Anyway, thanks again and please keep the ideas coming!**

 **. . .Five- Happy (very) belated birthday! Thanks for your super long reviews all the time, seriously makes my day. Marina's relationship with Adelina is something I'll expand on further, and we'll have to see where it goes. No, as you guessed the 'Riley not liking Stanley anymore' thing is not permanent. Stanley just kind of needs to realize some stuff first and then we'll be back on track, so don't worry. Thanks for taking the time to read and review :)**

 **Guest- Hey, thanks for the suggestion and it's good to know that you guys would be interested in that. I've noticed too that I tend to focus more on the girls' friendship instead of guys'. I guess since I am a girl it's just easier to relate to and write, but I will certainly give the guys' friendship a try because I agree wholeheartedly with you on that one! It's also good to hear that Stanley and Riley are a good thing, because I was a bit worried about how people would think about that. Thanks for the feedback, and if you have any other tips please do not hesitate to let me know, because I love constructive criticism!**

 **legacies123- Thanks for both reviews! I'm glad that you like Stanley and Riley, because I honestly wasn't too sure about it in the beginning since she's an OC and all, but if y'all like it then that's good. And you guessed it, the point of Riley not liking Stanley was so he could realize some stuff and change, so as you may have guessed things will start to happen at some point. A warning though; Stanley and Riley is going to be a slow burn, just to prepare you :) thanks for reading and reviewing!**

 **To everyone else who read and/or left a review, THANKYOU! Seeing what you guys think honestly makes my freaking day!**

 **Anyway, sorry for the late update (as always). This is one of the longest chapters yet, so yay if you like long chapters, sorry if you don't! Some Jix in this chapter so read on!**

* * *

 **Maren**

"That's _all_ you're taking?"

Mom looks at my bag with raised eyebrows, scrutinizing it for it's small size. I give her a look and drop it on the floor, where it lands with a pretty substantial sounding clunk. It may be a small bag, but I packed everything tight since I wasn't excited about the idea of taking more than one piece of luggage. Riley's van is going to be full with everyone else's stuff anyway, the last thing she needs is more room taken up.

"The trip is only three days long." I remind her after she doesn't seem convinced about the amount of materials in the pack, despite the weight.

"Still." She says, crossing her arms. "That doesn't look like enough to survive on."

"Considering I'm going to be _surviving_ in a hotel room, I think this is fine." I reply.

Mom watches me put on my boots with what could be a stern expression if I couldn't see to worry beneath it. She gets like this sometimes; overprotective, maybe a bit paranoid. It usually happens when I'm doing something more 'adult' than she would like. She was completely fine with us taking the bus because I guess she saw it as more of a field trip. Now that we're driving ourselves, I'm pretty sure her views are more on the side of a glory weekend than a school sponsored activity. Mom looks between me and my bag, most likely thinking of anything else she could question me on.

"Do you even have any food?" She asks at last.

"I already told you, food is included."

"I meant for the ride out." When I arch an eyebrow she raises hers. "It's an eight hour drive, Maren."

"There are lots of gas stations, Mom." I retort, using the same tone she did. Most kids wouldn't talk to their parent like that. But Mom is not a strict parent, and she is certainly not one to chastise me for making a joke, even if it was kind of to mock her.

She sighs. "I know." Pushing her hands into the pockets of her track pants, she takes an anxious glance out the window. I can see the stern ruse giving more into worry that must have been festering under the surface. "Riley's van _is_ in good condition... right?"

"Well, it drives."

"Yes, she picked you up in it two days ago, I'm aware that it drives." She rolls her eyes. "You know what I mean. Her mother was picking you up in that thing when you were _eight_ years old, are you sure it's even able to make the trip?" It's a valid concern, and one that I'm sure other parents like Adelina would be worried about if she wasn't the way she is now.

I shrug. "I guess there's only one way to find out."

"How comforting." Mom mutters. I grin at her sarcasm, and I'm sure the expression doesn't help to ease her emotions in the least.

A sudden knock on the door makes Mom jump. She grunts in annoyance when I laugh and put my hand on the doorknob slowly, arching a dramatic eyebrow.

"Whatever is behind this door-"

"Open the fucking door, Maren."

I smirk and pull the door open, revealing an assault of colours standing on the porch. My eyebrows shoot up at the un-zipped orange jacket over an army green hoodie, dark purple gloves visible at the end of the sleeves. Wool socks also stick out over the top of a pair of winter boots, standing out against blue jeans. All of this paired with a bright grin, makes me squint.

"Oh my God." I mutter. "Who let you leave the house like that?"

"You're the one who complained about the other jacket!" Riley accuses.

"If I knew this was the other option I wouldn't have said anything."

Riley looks at me for moment, mouth open in shocked offence. "Well maybe _somebody_ should have agreed to come shopping with me."

"Well sorry, I didn't expect the results to be this devastating."

"It's not that bad!" She insists, looking down at herself. "I mean, it's... uh-" Her defence breaks into a laugh and she looks up, unable to hold the insulted ruse for long. " _Devastating_ , Maren? Really?"

I chuckle too. "Get in." I say, stepping back to allow her entry into the house.

"I just came up to help with your stuff." She explains, noticing Mom when she gets in. "Hey, Kat."

"Hey." Mom greets back with a worry-laced smile. "You got a full load in that van of yours?" She asks, trying to discreetly get another glance out the window. I start putting on my jacket, the navy blue color less harmful to the eyes than Riley's vibrant assortment.

"Oh yeah, I think this is actually the smallest bag out of them all." She says, gesturing to mine. "Mar brought three." I snort because that's typical of Marina, to always think she needs more than she actually does. She probably packed for every situation imaginable, and then some. If we have to share a room, we'll probably have a fight over drawer space later.

"You sure it can handle the trip?" Mom asks, referring the van.

"Oh for sure." Riley says quickly, nodding. "I mean, the only problem she has is that the radio is broken." She smiles reassuringly for a moment before seeming to rethink it. "Well, and the back door is a bit janky. Plus I'm pretty sure the remote unlock is dying... but other than that she's in good shape." Mom looks even more unconvinced than before, but I'm not sure Riley picks up on things like that because she's still smiling.

Mom tells us to be careful and hugs both of us before we leave. Despite coming into the house to help me with my stuff, Riley doesn't take my bag, concluding that it's too heavy after having it in her hand for less than a second.

It's still a bit dark when I step outside, the sky taking longer to gain its light on winter mornings. We decided to leave early because Riley didn't want to drive in the dark. When she told me I'd have to wake up at five, I didn't bother reminding her that darkness in the night feels a lot better than darkness in the morning. She would probably have this scientific explanation about how waking up in the dark helps your body adjust better, or something else just as nerdy. I figured she probably needed to wake up at five anyway since there's a likely chance she saved her packing until two minutes before she had to leave.

I do have to admit though, there's something tranquil about it. Light snow falls around us in the still neighbourhood, the sounds of our boots crunching over ice the only noise to be heard aside from the running engine of the old vehicle on the street. And as I look around on my way to the van, everything covered in a drowsy glow and the cold air silent as it surrounds me, I can't help but believe that quiet mornings and winter were just made to go together, despite the feelings of my internal clock.

Riley pulls the hatchback door and my mouth drops open. "Holy shit. How long does everyone think we'll be gone for?" The bags are nearly piled to the ceiling, so much so that I can't even see whoever decided to sit in the last row of seats. I can see however, that one seat on the last row is folded down to allow for more room for bags.

"I know, it's terrible." Riley shakes her head. "Anyway, Just throw it in and hope it doesn't roll out before I have the trunk closed."

We get my bag in without it rolling out again on the first attempt, which Riley deems as a great accomplishment. I'm surprised when I get in the passenger seat that nobody claimed shotgun yet, but I guess it only makes sense that either Marina or I have it. Upon my arrival I see that Marina is busy in the last row of seats, sitting side-by-side with Joseph, so I guess the role falls on me. I'm not going to complain.

"Finally!" A voice says, and I glare at the windshield because the voice came from directly behind me. "I think getting everyone in car took longer than the actual drive will." Stanley complains.

"That's only because you were picked up first." Joseph points out, in the seat behind him and seemingly in a much better mood than his friend. "Come on, just think about how much fun you'll have."

"Whatever." Stanley grumbles. I guess he's either too tired or too sulky to think of a proper retort at the moment.

"Alright! Is everyone ready?" Riley's attitude is the complete opposite of Stanley's as she puts the car in gear, even though I know she's not a morning person either. She must have been up for a long time if she's already this cheerful.

Her comment gets an enthusiastic "Aye aye, Captain" from Joseph. It seems like the response is all Riley expected of the car, and she immediately gets us going down the street.

We make a stop at Tim Hortons before we get out of town. The order mostly consists of tea or hot chocolate, since it's too early in the morning to actually _want_ to be awake, but Stanley gets a coffee. There's hardly any traffic this early in the morning, so we hit a number of empty intersections and when we actually do pass another vehicle I want to ask them why they're out so early and tell them to go back to bed. But then I remember we're out this early. Maybe they're all going on a ski trip too.

Riley seems much less confident when we actually get to the ramp for the highway. "Okay, Mavis. Let's see if you can still do it." She says to the vehicle, nodding sternly as though they're going into battle together.

"Wait, what do you mean? This van _can_ drive on the highway right?" John speaks up from the back.

Riley looks surprised that anyone even acknowledged her encouragement of an inanimate object, but quickly attempts to assure him. "Yeah, of course. I mean, She still, like, runs and stuff so, uh... she shouldn't have any problems."

"What did I tell you, Man?" Stanley puts in, sounding drowsier than before. "The thing is falling apart."

"No, it's not." Joseph tries to stay positive, even though he can't have anymore knowledge on the health of the car than the rest of us. Stanley doesn't say anything else and John shoots me a look, silently asking if worrying is a valid reaction. I just shrug and turn back to the road, where the car is starting to accelerate up the ramp.

Accelerating the van seems to cause a louder noise than most vehicles, but I can still hear Riley muttering encouragement to the old machine over the sound. None of us talk. It's like we're all watching a tense movie scene, except we're in the movie, and the unhealthy noise from the van is not helping with the suspense. This is probably the heaviest load it's had to take maybe ever. I'm suddenly not sure it was a good idea to test this thing's weight capacity in the last years of its life. But then we get to the merging lane, and after a rough lane change takes us to the highway, I think we all let out a collective breath, with the exception of Joseph, who cheers.

"We're home free!" He whoops from the back as though nothing else could go wrong.

"Don't say that too quick." I hear Stanley mutter.

"Ugh." Joseph groans. It's the only time I've ever heard him sound close to annoyed, and I can only suspect it's because this is now his third optimistic remark to be flattened by Stanley's attitude. "Nobody cares about how tired you are. Now shut up and drink your coffee."

The comment is followed by surprised silence, all of us caught off guard by his sudden temper flare. Riley lets out a low whistle and someone clears their throat.

Finally, John speaks up. "Stanley." He says cautiously. "I think you broke Joseph."

I snort and the silence is broken as laughter sounds through the vehicle, even from Joseph himself. "Well Jesus." He starts to defend, quickly going from annoyed to amused in an instant. "Just because _you're_ grumpy doesn't mean the rest of us have to be too."

"It's not my fault!" Stanley counters. "Waking up at five is just unnatural."

"Well be mad at Riley then. Leave the rest of us out of it." I say.

"Deal."

Riley's eyes widen as she realizes what's occurring. "I feel like there are better solutions to this." She raises her hand. "I vote that you take a nap."

There's a collective noise of various sounding agreements, and I don't know if it's because they want Stanley to go to sleep, or they want to go to sleep. In either situation, Stanley ends up unconscious, so I'm a fan of both.

I hear a lot of rustling that must be everyone shifting around to get in a comfortable position, the most prevailing noise being the sound of multiple winter jackets coming off at once and most likely being used for blankets. My jacket came off long ago, and it now lies somewhere in the mass of clutter in the back, probably never to be seen again. But I don't move into a position to sleep, making Riley glance over at me.

"I know you're tired." She says, not even bothering with trying to be subtle.

I shrug. "I'm not too bad." I admit. I won't tell her I've been stifling yawns this entire time. "I'll help you keep an eye out for moose." I add.

She just smiles, but doesn't say anything more, letting one hand fall from the wheel as we cruise along. She knows just as well as I do that while moose aren't exactly a frequent hazard on the road, they're common enough to warrant a couple people looking at once. It's not really the reason I'm staying awake though. In all honestly, I feel bad that she's the only one that won't get the benefit of a few extra hours of sleep. My staying up with her won't help her fatigue in the least, but it's always better to have someone to share the struggle with.

There's only the sound of the pavement under tires as we continue on. I cross my arms, slouching lower in the seat that feels like the most comfortable thing in the world right now. But then, resting my head on the side of the window feels pretty comfortable too, and so does the gentle lull of the moving vehicle. So in the silence of the van and the comfort of the warm seat, I let the yellow lines on the road mesmerize me, and before I know it, my eyes have drifted shut.

 _. . ._

I wake up because of nothing in particular. The window is still cold on my temple, the dull noise of a moving car still resonates in my ears and the trees lining the sides of the roads still steadily blur together into shades of green and brown. I squint against the sun, feeling only half-awake despite the light I can see finally deciding to make an appearance over the horizon, but just barely. It's really the only thing that's changed since my eyes closed... how long ago? I lift my head to check the time, not doing a good job at ignoring the pain that shoots through my stiff neck.

"Ow." I complain weakly.

I hear Riley chuckle but my eyes are already closed again. "Yeah, I tried to wake you up a couple times because your head was in a weird position, but you know how you can be." She says, referring to the way my stubbornness extends all the way to my unconscious state when I'm sleeping. Apparently it's near impossible to wake me up unless my body agrees, and that must be the case now since my eyes opened because of seemingly nothing.

"How long?" I ask. The question isn't exactly clear, but she gets it.

"About an hour."

"Oh." I'm as surprised as my tired mind will let me be, concerned for a moment about how quickly light filled the sky. But then I remember that life doesn't stop when I start sleeping, and then everything makes sense again.

I sit up straight, turning in my seat and looking behind me despite the flash of pain through the side of my neck. Everyone is asleep in various positions. Marina is leaned against Joseph, her neck at a much healthier angle than mine as it rests on his shoulder with his arm around her. Since one seat had to be folded down in the last row to accommodate for the mountain of gear, his other arm is propped up on a duffle bag, his face looking squished against his fist. He'll probably have an imprint on his cheek when he wakes up. Directly behind me, Stanley looks in a similar position that I was in when I woke up; slouched in his seat with his head leaned on the window, neck at an uncomfortable angle. His probably cold coffee sits in cup holder in the door, forgotten.

Unlike everyone else, John isn't using his jacket as a blanket. Instead it's balled up on the folded down seat between him and Stanley, it's heated comfort apparently unneeded. His head is turned this way, but the side leans on the headrest, part of his cheek resting on his shoulder. His hair has been cut again since he first introduced the look a couple months ago, but it's still had enough time to grow a little longer, and I can see parts sticking up from the way his head is leaned on the headrest. I take in everything else quickly; slack face, parted lips. Completely peaceful. Somehow, it's easier to look at him when he's like this. Maybe it's because I know he won't notice, or because of how much simpler it is to deny anything I'm feeling when his personality isn't awake to prove me wrong. Or maybe the reason is much more basic, like how I don't have to force myself to look away from his eyes when they're closed.

"Yup, everyone's still asleep."

The quiet tone shouldn't have startled me, but I nearly jump at it before I turn back around. I had almost forgotten that while he couldn't see me looking, there was still someone else in the car that very much could. Luckily, I wasn't distracted for long.

"They should be. We're all still trying to recover from waking up at that ungodly hour." I reply, taking her cue and keeping my voice low. She smiles like she's proud of it and I roll my eyes. "How are you not tired?"

"I've had three coffees." She explains.

"But you don't even like coffee."

"I know. It was painful." She grimaces and I just shake my head, amused at image of her trying to choke down coffee after coffee.

She looks in one of her mirrors and only then do I notice that her hair is in a ponytail, unlike its usual bun. "Did you straighten your hair?"

Her eyebrows shoot up like she's surprised I noticed, but she shrugs. "Yeah, I had some extra time this morning." She says, adding, "Couldn't sleep."

"Oh that makes sense." I say sarcastically. "Because whenever I can't sleep, my first thought is always to break out the straightener."

"I was bored." She laughs, seeming to appreciate having someone to talk to, and I suddenly realize how boring the past hour must have been for her. She's been in a silent car for sixty minutes and hasn't even turned any music on. I'd be content in silence, but I know she's not the type of person who enjoys long amounts of solitude. I feel bad. I never meant to fall asleep.

"Why don't you have the radio on or something?" I nod to the device in front of us and presses her lips together.

"I think it died for good a couple days ago. I tried to turn it on a few times but it was just static, and you know..." she makes a hand gesture at it, I assume trying to communicate the thing's dead-ness, "Bleh."

I send her sceptical look and reach forward to try it anyway. I press the button and sure enough, all that comes out is quiet static. I frown in disappointment even though I knew what was most likely to happen. Riley seems happy for once that the radio didn't work, and looks like she's about to make a comment, until the static turns into crackling and the crackling turns into a song. I let her take her time shooing the smug look for her face until she looks exasperated instead.

"Oh course it works when _you_ do it." She mutters. "Do you ever get tired of being perfect all the time?"

I sigh. "It's honestly a full time job."

She shakes her head but can't hold in a laugh, though it's quiet, still mindful of the sleeping teenagers in the back. She keeps looking ahead, but I notice her eyebrows furrow, smile disappearing as she squints a little.

"What's wrong?"

She seems confused. "Are there potholes on the highway?"

As soon as the words leave her mouth a rough jolt shakes the vehicle as she hits the hole straight-on. I grit my teeth as the vehicle makes an unhealthy thump, the radio cutting out from the force of it. Riley looks at me with wide eyes.

"Ow." Stanley's voice groans from behind me, the peaceful feeling in the vehicle disappearing as everyone is startled awake with various degrees of alarm. I glance back to see Stanley's hand on the side of his head, the side closest to the window. His head must have hit to glass when we went over the bump.

"What was that?" John has now woken up, looking much more alert than I was seconds after coming into consciousness.

I turn to our unconfident driver, now cringing as she drives along. I sigh. " _Yes_. There are potholes on the highway."

"Well sorry, this is only like my second time driving on the Trans-Canada." She defends, obviously not thinking her words through. Then her eyes widen. "Forget I said that."

"Your _second_ time on the highway?" Stanley says accusingly. "Oh my God, we're doomed." I glance back with a glare at him, only to find John and Joseph doing the same thing. Stanley is oblivious as usual.

"No we're not." Riley soothes. I'm not sure how she's not irritated by the constant ridicule, but her seemingly nonexistent temper will probably always be a mystery to me. "Besides, the highway is just like driving in town. Just faster and with less traffic. Everything is going to be... uh..." She lets her reassurance fall when the car starts to feel weird. It's way more bumpy, but this time I know it's not from a pothole.

The car slows and she turns on her hazards, pulling off on the side of the road. The bumping gets worse as the vehicle loses its speed until it finally comes to a gentle stop on the gravel shoulder of the highway. To her credit, it's one of the smoothest stops she's ever made, despite the situation.

She turns off the vehicle. "Does anyone know how to change a tire?"

 _. . ._

We all watch as Stanley singlehandedly hefts the spare tire from a compartment in the back of the van to the front right tire, where it drops to the side with nothing left to hold it up. He goes back for the car jack and whatever tool is used to get the bolts off the other tire, stepping over duffle bags and backpacks that had to be moved to uncover the panel on the floor that covered the tire. It was quite the job. Not like I had to do anything. Because of what I can only assume to be an assurance of masculinity, Stanley and Joseph jumped right into action, roping John into the effort by obligation. The three guys removed about half of the stuff from the back of the van, uncovering several cases of beer I wasn't aware were there. I was told afterwards that Stanley brought them.

Stanley kicks the very obviously flat tire, wrench in hand. "Yup. That's flat as shit."

"Uh huh." Riley says crossing her arms. She's quiet for a moment, something obviously bothering her since she would usually just fill the silence without another thought. "You know, I actually _am_ okay to drive on the highway. Like, I went to driving school." She says finally.

Stanley looks up in shock. " _You_ went to driving school? How is that even possible?"

I don't focus on the beginning argument. I'm honestly more focused on trying to keep the cold out of my mind. I try not to think about my breath fogging in front of me, or the cold breeze that blows by every now and then, or the snow under the soles of my boots.

"Stanley is good with cars." John says next to me, and I can't ignore him. "His Dad taught him to fix them."

"Is his Dad a mechanic?"

"No, a lawyer." He must see the confusion on my face because he chuckles. "He just knows a lot about stuff."

"Oh." I respond. It's not my most brilliant reply, nor is it an impressive conversation piece, but it's short and quick and probably one the only words I can make without my chattering teeth becoming audible.

I keep my eyes on the ground as Stanley gets to taking off the tire, the car apparently raised high enough to start the task. I wouldn't know, I've never changed a tire, although I'm sure I could do it if I had to. Or at least I'd out in a valiant effort. I honestly wish I had something to do to fend off the cold. Maybe I should have helped unload the bags, or maybe I could start loading them back in. But then Stanley wouldn't be able to get the compartment open again and that would be inconvenient-

Something warm slips over my shoulders, stopping my thoughts in their tracks. It takes me a moment to realize it's a coat. It's a blue one, but not electric blue or navy. Somewhere in the middle. I realize the jacket is gone from John's shoulders.

Someone else might thank someone for giving up their coat, or ask if they're sure they don't want it. But I've never really had a thing for politeness, and John has never really had a thing about caring about it.

"I'm fine." I say.

His lip pulls up in a knowing smile. "I know you are." He doesn't meet my eyes, not giving me a chance to defend against the gesture. Eventually I give up, grudgingly putting my arms through the sleeves.

"Thanks."

He smiles wider. "No problem." He waits a second, like the words have to sink in before he turns to me. "See? That's how _normal_ people accept help. It wasn't so hard, was it?"

I shoot him a flat look, trying to ignore the way the the coat's sleeves end far below my fingertips. "It's not about refusing help. I'm able to deal with a little bit of cold."

"I don't think you should have to." He replies simply.

I raise an eyebrow at him. "What about you then? Shouldn't you not have to deal with the cold?"

"I'm not cold." He says, and I believe it. If the temperature of his hands at the rink that time was any indication, he would probably be fine just in a t-shirt. I huff and he laughs. "You're grumpy." He accuses.

"Well that's nothing new, is it?"

"Well... no." He admits, smiling. "But I think it's just such a shame to be in such a bad attitude when the situation is so nice."

My eyes automatically dart to him to see if he's joking. He just keeps wearing the same expression as before. "Is there something I'm missing here?" I ask, making a show of looking around at the noisy traffic, flat tire and snow beginning to fall; all evidence of a terrible circumstance.

"Nothing at all actually." He replies. "Think about it. We're stranded in the wilderness during the most peaceful season of the year."

"We're stranded on the side of the highway." I correct.

"Hardly. Look, the trees are right over there."

"The highway is right over _here_."

"I don't see how that detail is important." He shakes his head and I just raise my eyebrows tiredly. "Oh come on. At least you're with your friends. The situation could be a lot worse."

"It could be a lot better too."

As soon as the words leave my mouth, John dramatically throws up his hands. "You're hopeless!" He exclaims, turning to go stand by Joseph I assume. I'm feeling kind of neutral about wether he stays or goes, but I like the idea of him leaving so I don't have a chance to infect him with my bitterness... if that's even possible, which I suspect it is.

I keep watching the wrench moving for a few moments and become vaguely aware of the sound of scrunching snow behind me. I'm kind of becoming distant from the cold when something hard hits my back. I don't jump and the force wasn't enough to jerk me forward, but I've been hit with enough snowballs in my life to know what one feels like, even if it's a soft throw.

I slowly turn around, my eyes finding John a few metres from the pile of snow forced to the side of the road by the plow, which is covered with dirt and gravel and is probably mostly ice at this point. John stands nearly knee deep in fresh snow, casually dusting off his hands, white flakes falling from his gloves. He grins at me, looking completely innocent.

"What?" He asks.

I just turn around again, quickly resuming my cross-armed position and watching as Stanley pulls the flat off and lays it on the ground, where it falls to the side with nothing left to hold it up. I think he's explaining what he's doing to Riley, who nods, pretending to be intrigued.

Another snowball hits my back, harder this time. I can hear it break and fall to the ground. I don't look at him again. Besides, if I don't pay attention to him he'll eventually get bored and give-

"Maren, duck!"

Immediately I drop to the ground as a new snowball hits the window of the car. The crumbles of snow fall down next to Stanley, who looks up at the impact. It must have had some power behind it because the dull thump draws everyone else's attention attention, even Joseph and Marina who stop their conversation to inspect the cause for alarm. Standing up, I twist around to see a wide eyed John.

"I did not mean for that to be head level!" He insists, his hand stretched in front of him like he's trying to calm a wild animal.

But then his facade breaks into a laugh and I realize I'm almost cracking up too. In fact, I'm smiling. Not like a full stupid happy grin, but there's no denying the shocked amusement on my face, or the laughter bubbling inside me. The feeling is accompanied by a certain squeezing in my gut as I struggle to hold back a bigger grin.

"Oooh, is this a snowball fight? Because I'm so down for a snowball fight." Joseph exclaims, detaching himself from Marina to establish an even playing field. He looks at John and I in anticipation while Marina looks between the three of us cautiously.

John doesn't pay any mind to his friend, looking at me with what could be described as a smirk if I found him one bit annoying, but I don't. It's a questioning glance and I answer it by walking forward to the pile of snow pushed from the road due to the plow. The pieces are already formed into ice due to the water from the road splashing into it.

"Sure." I answer Joseph.

He whoops and John grins for a moment before watching me pick up a a chunk of frozen snow from the pile. I hold it in my hand and watch as his face transforms from amused to nervous. He points at it in my hand.

"No. Maren, that's ice." He warns.

"And?"

"It's _ice_!"

"I don't see why this detail is important." I tilt my head innocently as I repeat the words he said to me earlier.

He understands and his mouth drops open. "This is a completely different situation! You could kill me- Jesus!" He drops down in the snow and my weapon goes sailing over his head. He stands and looks in the direction it landed, then slowly back at me. "Holy shit, you actually did it."

"Snowball fight!" Joseph exclaims, just before he lobs his own snowball at me. However, I see him wind up way before he throws it so I have lots of time to move out of the way. It ends up hitting Riley behind me... right in the face.

Joseph starts apologizing profusely and Marina's hand shoots up to her mouth, attempting to muffle a surprised laugh into her fist. John turns his head to hide a grin. Stanley, hearing the commotion, looks up too and lets out a bark of laughter at Riley's spluttering. She wipes a hand over her face and begins to scoop the snow from the collar of her jacket, nodding like she's excepted it.

"You know, the probability of that happening was so _indescribably_ low that I actually felt safe. Yet, here we are." She clears her throat, her casualness causing John to let out a laugh. Marina's shoulders shake with her suppressed reaction. Riley nods and walks forward. "I'm on Maren's team, by the way."

Quite a few things happen in the next few minutes. Joseph calls being on the girls' team, but is quickly rejected after trying to use Marina as a human shield. He ends up being hit with three snowballs at once before retreating behind John instead. Stanley threatens that bad things will happen if he gets hit with a snowball. Marina has surprisingly good aim. Riley mostly blocks the snowballs with her arms instead of dodging, which Joseph refers to as "some matrix shit". Joseph gets hit with every snowball we throw at him, John is about as good at lobbing snowballs as I am, and I start to work on having a streak where I don't get hit with any snowballs.

My streak is ruined almost as quickly as it started as I feel one hit my shoulder and look immediately in the direction it came from. I don't need to see John to know it was him. Joseph's aim is so bad it's almost a miracle if he manages to throw anything straight at all, let alone hit his target.

"Can't have you keeping up that streak." John explains, shrugging.

"Of course." I say, stepping backwards until I'm met with the pile of ice. John's eyes widen when he sees me reach a hand out to take one.

He starts walking in my direction, pointing a finger at me. "No, Maren." He warns. I slowly crack a frozen piece of snow from the pile and wave it at him, feeling my mouth pulling into a grin. He huffs disbelievingly, still making slow progress toward me. "That's how you want to be, huh?" He raises his eyebrows threateningly and starts coming faster.

I walk backwards to counter it but his steps are longer and he's suddenly right in front of me, grabbing for it. I hold it above my head and when he tries to grab it there I put it behind my back, still stepping backwards every time he steps forward. I can vaguely hear shouting and laughing going on behind me, evidence of the fight going on without us. But then, the level that I'm able to ignore all that is actually pretty alarming. Because while they focus on throwing around snow, my focus on absolutely anything is concerningly scattered. The only thing I'm really aware of is the new look in John's eyes as he follows my movements. I can only take it to be a mix of playfulness and something else. Whatever it is, it causes a weird nervous feeling to erupt inside me, the energy forcing an actual giggle from me when John makes another grab for my weapon, only to come up with nothing when I move it again.

He lets out a hiss of annoyance, his growing smile betraying the reaction completely. "You're a child." He accuses, most likely noting my pride at the immature game.

"Deal with it." I say. I prove his point by holding the ice ball up at head level, ready to pull it back when he goes for it.

He shakes his head. "Not this time."

His hand shoots out again and like before, I move it back. The difference is that he doesn't stop at that this time, and instead leans further to get it. The new tactic startles a laugh from me and I quickly take a step back. Or I would have taken a step back, if my heel didn't get hooked by something under the snow.

My heart jumps as I fall backwards, nothing but open air behind me. It only takes a second for my back to be cushioned by the snow, and I can't even begin to catch my breath before a shadow crossing my vision causes me to notice John, and then I realize two things.

One: John fell too. And two: John fell on top of me.

We could not be positioned so perfectly if we tried; a hand on either side of my head, one knee on the snow next to my left side, the other leg stretched out between mine. It's a miracle really that he managed to catch himself inches before my face while somehow managing not to crush me in the process. For moment I wonder what the chances were of neither of us getting hurt in the situation, until I remember one specific detail.

John's face is inches from mine.

My focus isn't scattered anymore. It's very nonexistent. I'm so close I'm pretty sure I could count the flecks of snow in his hair if my mind could seem to latch onto anything other than the distance between us, or lack thereof. I don't know what to think, or what to say or do. Should I move? Should I push him off?

I'm so confused I almost don't notice his widening eyes, his mouth opening to spew apologies. And then it hits me, and I want to laugh because it's so ridiculous that I haven't realized it before. With John, it's not just some weird, unexplained feeling. I'm caught up with him, or smitten or 'like like' or whatever other way I can call it. For some reason, in this particular position, I'm admitting it to myself, and I have no clue why. The realization surely doesn't do my scattered mind any favours, and I would need a favour to come to my senses right now. I would need a freaking miracle.

"The tire's changed, lovebirds!"

 _That_ gets my mind moving again, so suddenly that I'm pretty sure my heart stops for a moment. Apparently the same thing happens with John because he rolls off me so fast you would swear someone lit a fire under him. Only when I sit up do I look over and see Marina and Joseph kissing, Stanley letting out a wolf whistle to get their attention. I realize he was talking to them, not us. My heart starts beating normally again. Hard, but normal. I'm suddenly aware of how lucky I'm getting with this issue not being noticed, because I've slipped up more times than I can count.

Just as I've caught my breath, I notice not everyone was oblivious. Riley stands a little bit away, looking in the opposite direction of Marina and Joseph. I guess it makes sense that she wouldn't want to watch the affection between the two, the only problem is that she glanced this way instead. Our eyes lock and I'm worried, but if she's surprised she doesn't show it. Instead, she sends me a subtle thumbs-up with a look of approval. It quickly turns into a grin when I glare at her and she turns away, chuckling at what must be my red face.

"What are you laughing at?" I hear Marina ask.

"Uh, I just thought of a joke I read." She waves a dismissive hand at her. "You wouldn't appreciate it."

Even though she said the lie terribly, I'm grateful for the effort. At least I know she won't tell anyone.

John reaches a hand down to me since I still sitting in the snow, and I take it quickly, wanting to get up as fast as possible. He pulls me up and I step away from him with a quick 'thanks', but it doesn't seem to put an end to any starting conversation.

"Sorry." He says quietly as we start to join the others at the vehicle.

"Technically _I_ tripped you." I point out.

"Right, so it's all your fault then. Glad that's cleared up." He grins as she hits his hands together, snowflakes falling from his gloves. He takes a couple steps in front of me and I realize his hoodie is covered in snow, the most being around his forearms from when he caught himself. It reminds me that I'm wearing his coat and I take it off, missing it's warmth in an instant.

"You can keep it for the rest of the ride if you want." He offers, noticing that I've taken it off. I open my mouth to decline but he stops me with a chuckle before I can say anything. "I know, I know. _You'll be fine_." He rolls his eyes and I feel the corner of my mouth lift up.

"Here." I look into his amused eyes as I hand it to him. "Thanks, by the way."

"Anytime." He doesn't even put it on, just holding it under his arm as I hear him say, "Looks better on you anyway."

I thankfully don't have to respond to that, because Stanley starts yelling at him to hurry so he can help with the bags. John runs over and soon they're packing all the stuff back inside the van agin in record time. Joseph doesn't help this time though, too excited to get in the car to worry about stuff like that. We don't help either, and instead start to take our previous seating arrangements. I'm just opening the door to the passenger seat when I feel a hand on my hair, brushing through my ponytail. I turn, raising an eyebrow at Marina as she looks like she's focusing on picking something out of it.

"Did a snowball hit you in the back of the head or something?" She asks in response to my questioning look. "Your hair is covered in snow."

"Oh." I reach up a hand to touch it, the cold dampness telling me that she's right. I try to conjure an excuse for a moment before deciding that lying is the best option. "Yeah, probably." I dismiss with a mutter, shaking off her hand and getting in the van.

Everyone piles in the car once again after our luggage is back on board, Stanley being the last to sit in with a dramatic sigh as he flops into his seat. It would simply be unhealthy to hold back my eye roll.

"Thanks for changing the tire, Stanley." Riley says as we get back onto the road.

"No problem." He replies, weirdly humble for a second. But then the next sentence comes out of his mouth and it's back to normal. "What would you have done without me?"

Riley's eyebrows furrow. "What do you mean?"

"I mean who would have changed the tire? You would have been stranded."

She looks surprised for a minute before she laughs. "Are you kidding me?" Even she can't stop herself from rolling her eyes. "Do you think I'm some damsel in distress or something? I've changed a freaking tire before."

"Well why did I have to do it then?"

"Did it ever occur to you that I just didn't want to?"

 _. . ._

"I need to pee!"

A shout from Joseph reaches the front of the car. Riley and I send each other a glance.

"Thanks for sharing that." I reply.

"No, I need to pee! You need to pull into the next gas station."

"Well it's not going to be for another..." Riley looks at the clock on the dash. "Thirty minutes." Joseph groans.

"We passed one like ten minutes ago, why didn't you go in then?" John asks. I'm pretty sure Stanley is asleep again.

"It came on suddenly." Joseph replies meekly.

"Well you're going to have to wait."

 _. . ._

"Are we close now?"

"No, Joseph."

"Well I wasn't asking you. I was asking the driver."

"Tell him we're not close, Riley."

"We actually are pretty close."

"Ha! In your face Maren! How much longer?"

"Like two minutes."

"I'm not sure I can wait that long."

"Are you serious?"

"Maren, my middle name is serious."

"Well do you need to stop on the side of the road?"

"No."

"Well stop complaining."

"Ugh, fine."

...

...

...

"How long now?"

"One and a half minutes, Joseph."

 _. . ._

Riley collects ten dollars for gas money from all of us while Joseph runs into the gas station, throwing a ten dollar bill at the front of her car before he left. I don't really want to get out of the car. I still don't have my coat and it's warm in the car. But I also need a snack, and everyone else is getting out so I open the door anyway.

I rush into the gas station, the last one in. Marina and Stanley are standing by the ice cream freezer, although I know she won't be cold anyway. Honestly, it's weird how someone can be so unaffected by cold temperatures, but it never seems to bother her. Joseph must still be in the bathroom because he's nowhere to be found, and John is... well I don't exactly know.

I prioritize the chip aisle even though it's only around ten o'clock now. I couldn't care less about the unhealthiness of it at this point. I've been up for five hours and I had a small breakfast, chips will have to do. I pick a pack from the shelf just as John comes around the corner.

"Ew, barbecue?" He screws up his face. "I should have known." He shakes his head in disapproval while looking over the shelves.

"Well I bet you like something ridiculous, like Dill Pickle or something." I retort. He looks at me pointedly while lifting a bag of salt and vinegar chips.

"Dill pickle is disgusting." He scoffs.

"Agreed." I nod, looking for something to do because it feels weird just standing here in silence while staring down a bunch of chips. But that's strange too, because silence was always comfortable between us until... well, now. I don't like it. "What else are you getting?" I scramble for a conversation point, and I bet it even sounds unnatural. I'm not the type of person that cares if a conversation continues or not, but for some reason I feel the urge to fill the silence with something.

"I don't know, maybe a drink, maybe not. I'm feeling spontaneous." He grins when I roll my eyes, and it occurs to me that maybe it's just me feeling the awkwardness. John seems completely fine, if not in a better mood than usual. "Are you getting a drink?" He asks, probably since I've started idly walking in the direction of the drink coolers.

"I think?" I say, even unsure myself.

"Is that an answer or a question?" John chuckles.

"I don't know."

He nods at my response, looking at me curiously. "Alright, I think you're hungry. What'd you have for breakfast?"

"Um..." It takes me a moment to remember. "Cereal." I decide, not knowing for sure if it's the right answer.

"That explains it then. A bowl of cereal is not enough for you to last the day on, we need to get you more food. Like, asap."

He looks around while I continue in my direction, grabbing a Pepsi from the fridge when I come to it. When I turn back around, John is coming at me with a few food options in his hands. He wrinkles his nose at my drink.

"Really, Maren? Coke is way better than Pepsi." He says.

"Last time I checked, you're not the one drinking it so I can't see how this is any of your concern."

He holds up his hands, smiling despite my counter. "Alright, that's fair. Here, let me make it up to you." He takes a package from his pile, holding it up proudly. "I have beef jerky." He announces.

"Oh, beef jerky?" I pretend to be amazed. "How exotic."

"And yet, you don't sound impressed." John huffs, making me hold back a laugh. He looks down in his arms again. "Well, If you don't like that, I also have a chocolate bar, sour candy and a sandwich."

"What kind of sandwich is it?"

He raises an eyebrow. "Do you actually care, or are you just going to say no anyway?"

"What do you think?"

"You're impossible." He complains, grudgingly walking ahead and putting his items back in the appropriate spots. "I didn't realize you were so picky."

"I'm not picky, I'm just not hungry."

"Not stubborn either." He teases.

"Exactly." I agree sarcastically, and he laughs. We make our way to the checkout, steeping in line behind several people. They must all be paying for gas since I can't see any items on the counter.

"Well enjoy your disgusting chips then. I'll be over here," John gestures vaguely in some direction of the store, "getting some _real_ food."

"You go do that." I wave him off and he laughs again before turning away. I don't know what he classifies as 'real food' but I'm going to take a guess and say that barbecue chips aren't in the category.

As he goes somewhere else in the store, Riley steps in line behind me, a bag of chips in her hand. I know that they're ketchup chips without having to look at the bag. She's a person of simple and repeated tastes. She glances in the direction John went and then back at me, nodding.

"Just so you know, I approve." She says.

"Right."

"Unless you don't want me to approve. I can very much _not_ approve if that's what you want. Just let me know... whenever."

"Right."

She nods again, looking around in a way that's supposed to be casual, but she does it in a way that makes it look like we just exchanged top secret information or something. "Shoot." She nearly swears suddenly. "I was gonna get a coffee."

She trudges off to go get more of her despised drink and leaves me in the line. I would never say this out loud, but having her and Marina's support on whatever I choose almost makes the whole thing seem less confusing. Almost.

Joseph comes and gets in line behind me, apparently finished with his urgent reason to come in. He wrinkles his nose once he sees the chips in my hand. "Ew, barbecue?"

"Does everyone hate barbecue chips?"

"Yeah, pretty much." He says, then grins like he does so often. "But I think Stanley likes them."

"You're joking."

"I don't know... am I?" He says, arching an eyebrow to add to the dramatic statement. I eye him suspiciously until Stanley gets in line behind him, looking at both out findings for a moment before pointing at mine.

"Thank god somebody else likes barbecue chips too. I was starting to think I was going crazy." He chuckles and shakes his head while I see Joseph stifle a laugh.

There's silence for a moment until I sigh. "Fuck it, I'm getting beef jerky."

 _. . ._

 _Thump_

You know, it's kind of funny how peacefulness can come from such little things, like watching the road go by or the gentle lull of a moving vehicle.

 _Thump_

It's also kind of funny how that peacefulness can be completely obliterated by something as simple as the annoying guy sitting behind me.

 _Thump_

With every inch of my being, I try to ignore the almost indistinguishable jolt of my seat every few seconds. I really do.

 _Thump_

But there are some things that I just can't ignore. I don't know if it's because of what's happening or the person that's doing it, but it turns out that this is one of those things.

 _Thump_

I take a deep breath and hold it. Waiting... waiting...

 _Thump_

"Stanley, if you don't stop kicking my seat I _will_ find find a way to throw you out of this van."

A groan sounds from the outrageously immature boy behind me, and I try not to be irritated when Riley bites her lip to keep in a laugh at my outburst.

"I'm bored." Stanley complains.

"I'm having trouble seeing how that's my problem."

He groans again, tossing his head back in despair while aiming another kick at the seat. I glare ahead when I feel the dull jolt, trying to decide on an object I can throw at him to elicit the most harm.

"You're the one who agreed to the ride. Wait it out." John says patiently. "And why didn't you throw your coffee cup out when we got to the gas station?"

"Well because it still has- Wait, does it?" I hear him pick up his coffee cup and then sloshing liquid. "Ha! There's still some coffee left! Score!"

My eyebrows shoot up and I look back, horrified at the thought of drinking a black coffee that has been sitting in its' cup for five hours. Apparently everyone in the vehicle shares my thoughts, because we all stare at him with the same disbelieving expression as he swishes the drink around in his cup.

"Okay." Joseph speaks up. "You're not actually going to drink- Holy shit he actually drank it!" Everyone looks away immediately, the idea of drinking it somehow less disgusting when I can't see it for myself.

"What? It's good." Stanley defends. Joseph makes an obnoxious gagging sound. "Still bored though."

John groans. "Stop complaining. Just be quiet and drink your coffee. Like Riley." He waves to the front of the vehicle where Riley takes a sip of her coffee. Her face scrunches up immediately in distaste, the expression remaining even after she swallows it.

"Do I have to make that face too, or can I just drink it like a normal person?" Stanley asks.

"Whatever will get you to stop kicking my seat." I reply.

"What if I _want_ to kick your seat?" He shoots back, completely like a sulky child. Riley takes another sip of her coffee while I take a breath.

"Stanley, I swear if you kick my seat one more time you won't have a foot left to kick with."

A small burst of coffee sprays from Riley's mouth as she snorts. She quickly spits the rest of her mouthful back into her cup, eyes wide as laughs greet her mishap. I try not to laugh because it is kind of my fault, but nobody else seems to care. She looks down to assess the newly formed stain on the front of her sweater, finally putting her coffee back in the cup holder and keeping one hand on the wheel. She shoves my shoulder when she sees the extent of the damage, coaxing a chuckle from me.

"Do you _have_ to say crap like that when I have stuff in my mouth?" She chides. She shakes her head, trying to be mad but a laugh breaks through anyway. She points to a compartment in my door, not able to fight a grin, though I can see she's trying. "Now get me a freaking napkin."

I nod and try to stifle my amusement, but it's hard while everyone is still laughing behind me. By the time I get the napkin, the car has gotten relatively peaceful again. Riley snatches the napkin from me with a fake scowl, but I can't help but grin again when I look at the stain and remember what happened. I look out the window to try and hide it, but I end up chuckling anyway.

Riley looks at me, trying to keep her expression flat. "Stop laughing."

" _You're_ laughing."

"Shut up!" She shakes her head and distracts herself by dabbing at her sweater with the napkin. When she looks up, everyone is quietly laughing again and she groans. "It's not _that_ funny."

"I, for one, am thoroughly amused." Stanley says.

"Wait, so you're not bored anymore?" John asks sceptically. He looks excited and starts to say something, but Riley holds up a finger, cutting off whatever was about to come out.

"Just so you know, I will not be spitting anymore coffee on myself to keep you amused."

"Ah, damn." Joseph sighs in disappointment before falling silent for a moment as the humour from the accident dies off. He waits until Riley has the cup to her mouth again to say, "Hey Riley? What's the difference between a dirty bus stop and a lobster with breast implants?"

She glares ahead as the coffee in her mouth prevents her from answering. He doesn't wait very long to release the punchline.

"One is a crusty bus station and the other is a busty crustacean."

She manages to spit all of her coffee back in the cup this time. Well... most of it.

 _. . ._

"Guys! I just figured it out!"

Joseph's shout of joy from the back of the car startles me out of of my unfocused stare out the window.

"Figured what out?" Marina asks.

"I figured out what's missing from this road trip." He replies. After a dramatic pause, he exclaims, "Music!"

Stanley looks up from his coffee cup. He's been pretty infatuated with it since he claims it's the only thing that relieves his boredom in the slightest. "It took you _six_ hours to figure that out?"

Joseph just flaps a dismissive hand at the ridicule and looks to the front of the car, as though expecting music to play from the radio as a result of his desire alone.

"Sorry, Joe." Riley says regretfully. "The radio is dead again after hitting the pot hole."

"Well, we're going to have music one way or another." Joseph starts. "Did anyone bring any CDs?"

Everyone pauses and turns to look at him, even Stanley who's momentarily forgotten about his cold coffee. "Why, the hell would anyone bring CDs?"

"In case this happened!" Joseph defends.

There's silence for a moment. "I actually do have a few CDs." Riley admits.

"I'm not even surprised." Stanley says, talking into his cup. He doesn't add another complaint onto it though so that's a plus.

"They're in the glove box." Riley points to the compartment by my knees and I reach forward. As soon as I pull the handle the thing drops open heavily from the weight inside. No wonder either, the glove box is cramped with over a dozen CD cases which must be weighing down everything.

"A _few_ CDs?" I repeat. Riley shrugs. "Which one do you want?"

"It doesn't matter." She replies.

I take out a few, most with titles like "80's Hits!" or "Best of the 70's". I blink at the terrible options, immediately regretting even touching the radio earlier, but now here I am, trying to decide which torture is the least harmful to the ear. I desperately take out a few more cases until there's only a couple left in the glove box, looking for something I might recognize. When I find nothing, I just stare at the cases in my lap for a long moment, long enough for the rest of the car to be silent.

"Is there anything from this century in here?" I say finally. I look at Riley and she laughs outright when she sees my face. I realize that she set me up for this, and was watching me to see my reaction.

"There is actually." She points to the glove box again, amused. "There's still a couple in there."

I grunt, reaching for the last couple of cases. "It's not like they're going to be any better." I complain. I take out the last two CDs. One is a compilation of old country hits, but the other is labeled "Music from the 2000's". I look at Riley flatly, unimpressed with her version of 'better'. "Seriously?" I ask, holding it up.

" _Seriously_." She nods and looks like she's holding back another laugh.

"What's the hold up?" Joseph says suddenly. I hold the CD up so he can see, but it only amplifies his excitement. I don't know why I expected anything else from him really. "Well put it in!" He insists.

"No, put the eighties one in." John suggests.

"Yeah, not a chance." I say, opening the 2000's case.

Joseph whoops when he sees me putting it in the slot. I hear a whirring sound and then the unmistakable beat of a song I remember. I hear Marina mutter "oh God" and Stanley puts his head in his hands, apparently feeling the same way I do about the nostalgic song that was way overplayed in its time.

"I love this song!" Joseph exclaims. I hear him start to clap and I close my eyes, feeling tempted to copy Stanley's move.

More clapping Joins him and I look back to see it's John, looking way too enthusiastic about the song, I assume just to annoy me. It's doesn't work, as usual. He bobs his head really hard and has such an intense facial expression that I have to turn my head to hide a grin.

Pretty soon Riley is banging the beat onto the steering wheel, joining the sounds behind me. They go through the first verse and it all leads up until the two nearly-grown men behind me belt out the first words of the chorus...

"Since you been gone!"

The note is so horribly hit that Riley cringes and turns the radio up so loud that nobody's singing can even be heard.

"I can breath for the first time!"

I'm not sure which is preferable, listening to the terrible singing voices or dealing with the assault of such a classic 2000's song being forced into my ears.

"I'm so moving on! Yeah, yeah!

Eventually I stop trying to decide which aspect to hate more, and find myself singing along, although I'm definitely not as excited as John or Joseph. Riley is pretty into the song too, but I can't tell if she's singing or not due to the volume. She's probably not though. She doesn't like singing around people, even if she can't be heard. Although, it seems dancing is fair game.

By the end of the song I'm thankful for the silence but significantly less entertained now that everything is quiet again. I guess the road trip was missing this, but I could do with a volume change. As though reading my thoughts, or having the same ones, Riley reaches forward and turns the volume dial as the next song comes on. This one is even worse than the first. Even though everyone can now hear then, Joseph and John don't seem to care, and I think Stanley actually joins in this time too.

"I gotta feeling! Ooh ooooh!"

I lean my head back on the headrest and close my eyes, stubbornly accepting defeat against the nostalgic force of the Black Eyed Peas.

 _. . ._

My eyes are glued to the digital clock on the dash, silently urging the minute to change by the power of my thoughts alone. We got on the highway at exactly 6:22 this morning. It's a weird thing to remember eight hours later, but that is the most prevalent thought in my mind as I watch the clock stubbornly stay on 2:21. This thing was supposed to take eight hours, but yet, there's no ski hill in sight.

2:22

My eyes shoot to the road in front of us as I comprehend the time change. I half expect the ski hill to just emerge somehow from the side of the highway, but basic logic tells me that won't happen. The only explanation is that we're behind schedule. Refraining from saying anything, I just lean back and watch the road go by once more, letting the now quiet music wash over me.

"Okay, what the fuck." Stanley suddenly says.

Five pairs of eyebrows shoot up at the same time and four pairs of eyes settle the person occupying the seat behind me. Thankfully Riley chose to keep hers on the road.

Stanley gestures vaguely to the front of the vehicle. "It's been eight hours. Where the hell is the ski hill?"

"Are you telling me that you payed attention to the exact time we got on the highway? Because I don't believe that." John says. I can't believe that he would do that either, but who would have thought I would do it? I'll never admit it though.

"Believe what you want, but it's been eight hours, and I'm not seeing anything."

He shoots an accusing look at Riley and even though she's not looking, she must feel the scrutiny because she opens her mouth to defend herself. "Well believe what _you_ want, but there were more bathroom breaks than I accounted for. We're just a little behind schedule so you can relax."

Stanley sighs but surprisingly takes her advice. "How much behind schedule?" He asks, his voice less accusing than before.

Riley looks more shocked than me at his compliance but quickly answers anyway. "Two minutes, tops."

"So you're saying that in exactly two minutes, I'll see the ski hill."

"Yes, and if it's any longer than that, you reserve the right to get out and start walking."

That actually makes him laugh.

 **John**

"Alright, it's been two minutes."

Riley raises an eyebrow. "Your point?"

I'm surprised at her tone, but I find it more astonishing that after eight hours of ridicule and doubt, she's only slightly losing her cool now.

"My point is, where is the ski-" Stanley pauses. "Oh."

"Yeah, _oh_."

Sure enough, looming up on the left side of the highway, a mountain seems to emerge from the falling snow. I already know it's huge from the past times I've been here, but on a day like today, with a grey sky and flurries of snow making the upper part of the mountain disappear, it's a bit of trouble to take the whole thing in. I feel a little disappointed because seeing the mountain for the first time in ages is one of my favourite parts of the trip, but it doesn't look as impressive when half of it isn't even visible. Well, at least not to me.

Maren seems quite intrigued by the sight, a giant mountain towering over what seems like a tiny lodge in comparison. Her eyebrows are raised, but the thing that really shows her interest is the way her eyes never leave the hill. I suddenly wonder if she's ever been out of the province, or even out of the city before.

"Yeah, today wouldn't be a very good day for skiing." Riley chuckles, also noting the type of day it is up there.

"It's bigger than I thought." Maren says to Riley, her eyes still focused on it.

I see Stanley smirk and he looks at me. I roll my eyes because I already know what's coming. _That's what she said_ , he mouths. At least he had the decency not to say it out loud.

"Two thousand one hundred and twenty feet isn't actually that tall for a ski hill." Riley shrugs.

Maren gives her a look. "It's a still pretty fucking tall."

Riley laughs, not seeming bothered by the blunt tone. "Yeah, I guess it is."

Even though it looks like the ski hill is located directly off the highway, it turns out it's actually on its own little road dedicated to hotels, shops and the ski lodge itself, all built for the purpose of winter vacationing. It's like a whole different place as soon as we get off the highway, and the street becomes its own mini town with shops and sidewalks and people. The only thing that remotely dampens the tranquility is the too-heavy dose of snow we're getting that's turning the sky grey. But it'll be dark soon anyway, so it won't really matter in another couple hours. Thankfully it's supposed to be a nicer day tomorrow.

According the information on the sheet we got from the school, the place we're staying in shares the same parking lot as the lodge. It seems nobody could be bothered to clear the parking lot fully of the snow, because my boots are met with slushy snow as soon as I step out after a heavy tug on the sliding back door. I put the seat down for Marina and Joseph because Stanley doesn't look like he's moving anytime soon, sitting there on his phone like he wasn't just complaining about the length of the trip a minute ago. I'm the first to get to the back of the van, shortly followed by Riley, who comes literally sliding around the corner, the soggy ice doing nothing to help her. I rush to catch her before she can fall and end up grabbing both her arms to hold her up.

"Phew, thanks. That was like a trust exercise or something." She gives my arm a pat when I let her go, apparently unconcerned about her ill-tempered balance.

I pull the door open and watch as a couple of the bags fall unceremoniously onto the wet ground. We both look at the two very-not-waterproof bags that are making slow progress with indenting themselves into the soggy ice.

"I hope those are Stanley's." I say.

Riley smiles crookedly, and then whispers, "Me too."

I laugh as her smile turns sheepish right after she says it. "Somebody's bags fell out of the car!" I call around the vehicle, neither of us putting an effort into picking it up. We wouldn't be able to get it back in the vehicle if we tried anyway.

Coincidentally, Stanley is the first to join us behind the van, immediately reaching for the bags. "Shit, those are mine." He complains.

"Aw, what a shame." Riley shakes her head in mock sympathy.

There's a shout behind us and we all turn to see Mr. Byrne coming from the lodge. The trip was required to have a chaperone- staying in a separate room of course- but I'm glad it turned out to be him. He's one of the few teachers I actually don't hate. He gestures for one of us to come over so I nudge Riley, who sighs but starts walking anyway, putting on a smile for her favourite teacher.

"Is that Mr. Byrne?" Joseph asks, coming around the vehicle along with everybody else that were not yet outside.

"He must be the chaperone." I say, then I grimace. "Good thing too. I heard Mr. Collins was in the running." Everyone makes a sound similar to 'ew' and I nod.

"Oh Jesus, can you imagine?" Stanley shakes his head. "We wouldn't hear our first names the entire trip. It would just be, _Mr. Smith, Miss Elizabeth, Miss Teresa_." He puts on a nasally, monotoned voice when saying the names, and even I have to appreciate how accurate the impression is.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Riley and Mr. Byrne splitting up, Riley making her way back over here and our teacher heading back into the lodge, where I assume the check-in desk is. She waves a key at us on her way over.

"We're room eight." She explains. "Which means we're on the second floor."

"Joy." Maren says flatly, eyeing the soggy wooden set of stairs that leads to the second story rooms. I hope they're salted.

Stanley is the first to go up with his bags since they're already in his hands. Riley has to go up with him to unlock the door so the rest of us grab our own stuff from the back and soon all that's left are two snowboards, a couple bags, and several cases of beer. Maren helps Marina with one of her bags, and is the next to go up the questionably safe wooden stairs. I only have one bag so I take the other one for Marina since Joseph has his hands full. I don't ask why she needed to take three bags.

I pass Riley and Stanley on my way up the stairs, going down to get more stuff I would assume. The door is left open when I get to it so I just walk in. Stanley has his stuff placed randomly around the porch and Maren appears in the doorway of the nearest room just as Marina and Joseph come in behind me. I guess she wanted to have first pick.

"How many beds are there?" She asks.

I wrack my brain for a minute before remembering that the number of beds in the room are half the number that are on the team. I guess we're all supposed to be friends anyway so sharing shouldn't matter, but only having three beds does pose an issue for us since a guy and girl will have to share a bed.

"Three." I reply, looking around and noticing only one room on the main floor. There must be two more on the second floor. "So we're going to need to share."

Everyone can conclude at once the problem that poses. I notice Marina and Joe glance at each other for a minute before looking away just as quickly. They are the only couple out of all of us, but it doesn't mean they have to be the ones to solve the problem. I don't think they're too comfortable with it either.

"Mar, I already put your bag in this room." Maren says, probably noticing the same thing I did. "So you're with me."

Marina seems absolutely fine with that so I give her her third bag so she can take it in the room. Joseph looks at me and grins when it's clear that we'll be having to make the decision next.

"What do you say, buddy? Wanna move in with me?" He looks at me with a big show of hopefulness so I decide to play along.

"Joseph, this is all so sudden..." I put a hand on my chest. "Don't you think we're moving a bit fast?"

"A platonic love this strong cannot be confined by silly things like time."

"Joseph... I don't know what to say."

"Then say yes." He puts down one of his bags and takes my free hand. "Please."

I nod, pretending to be in deep thought. "Okay. I'll do it."

"Really?"

"Really."

He grins and suddenly drops his bag, throwing his arms around me. He thumps his fist on my back and I do the same, both us acting completely ridiculous. Although, when you've been friends with someone for almost your entire life, there really is no such thing as acting ridiculous.

There's a short laugh somewhere down the hall and I pull apart from my 'heartfelt' hug with Joseph to look and see Maren leaning her shoulder on the doorframe of the room with an amused little smile. "Sorry to be the one to break this to you, Marina, but I think you just lost your boyfriend." She says, turning her head to talk to her friend who must be inside the room by now.

Marina laughs. "Oh God, this weekend is going to be awkward then."

Joseph grins and Maren turns toward us again, putting up her hands. "Sorry for interrupting. Please proceed with... that." She chuckles before disappearing back into the room.

Joseph and I go upstairs and drop off our stuff into one of the bedrooms, coming right back down again to see Stanley and Riley come in with a few cases of beer each. Hopefully Mr. Byrne didn't see them bring it in. Riley goes back down for the rest of her stuff, declining several offers of help. I'm honestly more worried about her slipping again rather than the load she'll be carrying up, but she goes down by herself anyway.

"So," Stanley drops the beer on the floor in nice stack, "I have two questions: Where is the fridge, and where am I sleeping?"

Joseph and I look at each other. "There's one bed left upstairs." I say.

"Oh, perfect." He makes a grab for his stuff.

"But Riley doesn't have anywhere to sleep yet either."

He pauses, looking at me with furrowed eyebrows. "How many beds are there in this place?"

"Three."

"Oh." He looks up carpeted stairs for a moment, seeming to think for a moment, which he doesn't do often. "So..." he raises his eyebrows, looking for an explanation or an affirmation, I'm not sure which.

"You guys might have to share." I explain.

" _Or_ , someone can take the couch." Maren's voice cuts in, also known as the voice of reason. We all turn to see her standing in the hallway with her arms crossed. Even from here I can see the end of the short hallway leads into a living room, a couch in plain sight. She rolls her eyes at our dumb looks. "Figures, you were all so caught up in thinking about the problem that you forgot to think about _solutions_ to the problem."

"What problem?" Riley walks in through the open door and closes it behind her, a big duffel bag on one shoulder, a backpack on her back and a snowboard in her other hand. Maren looks confused at the latter.

"They thought you might need to share a bed with Stanley until they discovered a couch." She explains. "When did you get a snowboard?"

"So am I sleeping in the couch or the bed? And last week when I bought the jacket."

"You and Stanley need to figure that out. Did you buy it with your Christmas money?"

"Well, which floor are you guys staying on? Inheritance."

Maren points to the room she's chosen, nodding to communicate her acknowledgment of the seemingly random word thrown in at the back of Riley's sentence.

As always, I'm kind of amazed at their weird way of communication. This time it's just two conversations going on at once, but I've seen weirder from them. Between the three women, I've seen them get a understandings across using facial expressions, mouthing words, or even just looking at each other. They always seem to get their points across with minimal complications, but it confuses the hell out of the rest of us, who prefer to simply voice our opinions instead of using more complicated methods.

"Okay, if you guys are staying down here I'll take the couch." Riley states, unbothered by not having the bed. I think she tries to make a hand gesture before she realizes she's kind of loaded down. She settles for just the words. "So each gender can have their own floor." We all nod because it makes sense. Well except for Stanley, but he's always difficult anyway.

"Wait, that's not fair. You guys get the kitchen and living room." He says, looking down through the hall.

"Obviously you guys can use the kitchen." Riley intercepts before Maren can say whatever smart remark that caused her to open her mouth. "All I'm thinking about is the bathrooms, because we have one down here. I'm assuming you guys have one up there." She looks at Joseph and I and we nod, already having scoped out the place. "Well good, it's all worked out then." She smiles, having a strange way of making things a million times simpler. She starts walking past with her two bags and snowboard.

"Hey, Pierce." Stanley says. She stops and turns to him. He smirks. "If that couch gets uncomfortable, you know where to find me."

My eyes immediately find Maren's like they usually do when Stanley says something like that, to communicate our annoyances with someone who we both know will agree. But when our eyes meet this time, she looks away right after, focusing on the ground instead. When she was weird earlier, I just blamed it on hunger and maybe a bit of tiredness from this morning. She's definitely not hungry now, but I suppose she could still be tired. I don't try to figure her out because I don't think I'll ever be able to.

Riley chuckles at Stanley's proposition. "I'll keep that is mind. But I'm sure the couch will be very comfortable." She rolls her eyes and goes into Maren and Marina's room with her stuff. It makes sense to put it in there since she can't exactly have it all in the living room. Stanley grins, seeming much more confident now that he's sure they won't actually we sharing a bed. The guy is weird.

"I guess we should all go get our stuff sorted and then go out for a late lunch?" I suggest. Everyone agrees and we go upstairs while the girls all go into the room downstairs.

Joseph and I don't bother with putting anything in the dresser, just laying our bags in each corner of the room. After that's done we kind of just stay in the room, not knowing what else we can do. It doesn't take long at all for Stanley to come in, already bored like we are.

"That was easy." He states, sprawling on the bed. We all sit there in silence for a minute.

"Well if we're ready this fast, doesn't that mean the girls will be done too?" I ask. They both appear to think about it for a second before nodding.

"Yeah, I mean there's not much to do so they should probably be ready. I bet they're waiting for us to come down." Joseph says laughing. The sound of muffled conversation can be heard downstairs and we all look at each other.

"Yup, they're definitely waiting for us." Stanley says, groaning as he sits up. "Let's go."

We all get up and begin to make our way down the narrow stairs. As we get closer to the bottom, the voices become clearer, and they almost sound... angry? We shoot confused glances at one another but continue down anyway. And it seems like Maren and Marina are doing to majority of the talking... or yelling. I can hear a quieter voice interjecting every now and then too that I'm guessing is Riley.

We can finally hear the conversation clearly when we get to the last stair.

"I already called dibs on the top drawer! You can't just take it!"

"It doesn't count if it's in your head, Maren!"

"I said it out loud! You just didn't hear!"

"Well I need it more, I'm taller."

"BY LIKE ONE INCH!"

"IT DOESN'T MATTER! I NEED IT!"

"NO YOU DON'T. YOU ALSO DIDN'T NEED THREE FUCKING BAGS OF CLOTHES BUT HERE WE ARE!"

"No, I don't want a drawer, thanks for asking though-"

"IT'S NOT MY FAULT THAT I WANT TO BE PREPARED FOR EVERY SITUATION!"

"HOW MANY SITUATIONS DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING TO COME ACROSS? YOU'LL BE EATING, SLEEPING, AND SKIING! JUST PICK A SHIRT AND WEAR IT!

"I think what we really need to do now is take a deep breath and ask ourselves-"

"SHUT UP."

Stanley, Joseph and I share a concerned look. We wait a few more moments of yelling until- collectively and without a word- turning around and quietly going back up the stairs. We shut ourselves in the room and wait.

"So..." Joseph says eventually. "I guess they're not ready."

Stanley nods, and then after a moment says, "I have a feeling this is gonna get weird."

"Yeah." I lean back on the head board and stretch my legs out. "You're not the only one."

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! I'm not completely happy with that chapter, mostly because I was rushing to get it up, but here it is anyway. Hope you liked it and leave a review if you did (or didn't). Anyway, have a fabulous day and I'll be trying hard to get the next chapter up in a reasonable amount of time :)**


	21. Chapter 21

**Hey guys!**

 **Yup I'm not dead. Really didn't think it was going to take this long but you all know how I am, and I'm sorry. Just a warning, the only couple stuff going on in this chapter is a little bit of Navrina. I PROMISE I'll make it up next chapter!**

 **Reviews:**

 **loricnumbersix6- Hey, thanks for the lovely review! As for your suggestions, I'm only going to say that y'all seem to figure out what I'm going to write before I even write it... although I'm thinking a coma might be a little too serious for the relationships right now. Great idea though and like always, keep them coming! Love to hear what y'all think!**

 **Book lover with no life- Thankyou for the beautiful review! As for the ideas: 1) Eventually Maren will spill her feelings. I love the idea but I kind of already have it planned for a chapter in the future and I won't say much more on that because I don't want to give anything away. 2) Truth or Dare is something I've considered, and I love reading stories like that. I don't think I will be doing it, but since multiple people have now mentioned it, I might be able to meet in the middle and do maybe something like 'Never have a I ever'? Anyway, let me know and thankyou for the ideas, please keep them coming!**

 **Guest- Hi, great question. I was thinking about having some other Garde characters included but way further down the road. If it's something everyone wants now maybe I could put it as a side plot or something? Anyway, like I've said before, this story is for you guys so I want to write what you want to read. So anyone who reads this, let me know about it and I'll see what I can do :) And thanks so much for the review, it means a lot!**

 **Thankyou to everyone else that reviewed! Please know that just because I didn't list your name doesn't mean I didn't read your review or I don't love hearing what you guys think because I do so much. I hope you understand that I usually finish chapters up at around two in the morning so I'm only a little tired. The support from everyone honestly means everything, and thankyou to everyone that reviews and/or reads :)**

 **Anyway, on to the story.**

* * *

 **Marina**

Getting up early for the second day in a row takes a bit of effort for me. Usually I just wait a couple minutes after my alarm goes off to get up, but today I stay in bed until I hear Riley's second alarm go off from the living room.

I get up and it takes a drowsy trip up and back down the hall for me to remember the location of the bathroom. I usually wouldn't bother with putting my hair up before breakfast but considering there are other people here to witness my unpleasant state, I grab my brush and set to work. Maren comes in halfway through without even knocking, neither of us caring less about what the other could be doing.

"Put a piece of bread in the toaster for me when you go out." She tells me, barely awake.

"We don't have food in here." I yawn, both of us comprehending things in what seems like slow motion. She blinks at me. "We have the meal card, remember? We need to go to the cafeteria in the lodge."

Her eyebrows furrow as she stands there, not doing anything. I honestly don't even know the reason she came in here. "Oh." She says. She stands there for another moment before leaving after accomplishing nothing. I'm ready a few moments later and go to the room to change.

After I'm ready, I head out to the kitchen and living room just as Riley's third alarm goes off. She doesn't even look like she wakes up, turning it off with her eyes still closed. I'm not surprised to see that she hasn't even made an effort to get up yet. Maren is in the kitchen, sipping something out of a mug.

She sees me enter and raises the mug to me like an exhausted toast. "They have coffee." She closes her eyes and takes a long sip. Knowing her, it's probably straight black and tastes similar to rocket fuel. I start to walk over and she nods approvingly. "There's sugar but no cream."

"That's fine." I say immediately. Maren points a cupboard and I open it to find a bunch of mugs. I pour whatever is left in the pot into my mug and put some sugar in it, turning around and leaning on the counter like Maren. I take a sip, cringing at the taste because I usually put cream in mine, and I have a hunch that she makes her coffee stronger than normal people. The second sip is better. "Riley, there's coffee." I call, trying to coax her up.

If it were Maren that was still asleep, I wouldn't even be trying to wake her up, because that girl gets up when she wants and nobody can tell her otherwise. Luckily she usually has the slightest sense of urgency so she gets up at a reasonable time, unlike Riley who prefers to wait as long as possible to get up. The difference is that the latter can usually be persuaded.

"Don't like it." She mumbles, the side of her face pressed into the pillow.

"You had it yesterday."

"Because I..." She sighs, seeming to actually doze off for a moment. "It was out of necessity..."

Maren raises an eyebrow, in an equally terrible mood. They are not a good duo in the mornings. "It's obviously a necessity today too."

Riley doesn't respond, unmoving. By her attitude, you'd think she was a deep sleeper, but she's actually the lightest sleeper out of all of us. Anything that makes a noise wakes her up. Maybe that's why she's so hard to get up.

We wait a few minutes as sounds can be heard going on upstairs; the guys getting ready. We sip our coffee in silence until Riley's alarm blares for the fourth time this morning. Again, she shuts it off without opening an eye. Maren almost growls into her cup so I interject before she can say anything harsh.

"R, you need to get up."

She lets out a quiet groan. She must not have gotten a good sleep last night, because that's the only reason she'd be this hard to get up. Footsteps sound down the stairs.

I try again. "Seriously."

Another sound of protest. Joseph walks -actually almost skips- into the kitchen, his grin far too bright for the morning.

"Well good morning! Who's ready to go-"

Riley lets out a loud groan this time, coupled with burying her face into the pillow. Joseph looks over to the couch, startled. "Stop. _Talking_." Riley growls, her angry voice muffled by the pillow.

Joseph is silent for a minute, turning toward us with wide eyes as he carefully distances himself from the couch. He stands next to me and leans closer. When he speaks, his voice is a whisper. "Is she possessed or something?"

I chuckle and he grins, obviously not too alarmed. Maren might laugh at that too if it were a different time of day. But she just looks at him right now, eyebrows furrowed and the definition of disheveled. She obviously doesn't care about anyone seeing her bedhead. "Of _course_ you're a morning person." She grunts, putting her focus back on her cup.

Joseph's eyebrows shoot up at the terrible attitudes. "Apparently someone needs to be." He jokes. Nobody responds so I smile at him, not really in the mood for talking. I'm not so much grumpy in the morning, just quiet.

"Oh, do you want some coffee?" I ask him, turning around and looking at the empty pot. "I mean, there's none right now, but you could make some. It's uh-"

He cuts me off with a shake of his head. "Nah, I don't like it. Thanks though." I just nod and take another sip of mine.

I jump a little as Riley's alarm goes off for the fifth time this morning. I look at Maren to find her glaring in that direction. This time I let her say whatever violent assault of words she wants.

"Riley, I'm not listening to that alarm go off all damn morning. Get the fuck up. Now."

"Uh huh."

There's more footsteps and we turn our heads to see John emerge from the hall, already dressed like Joseph and I. He does a double take when he sees Riley still on the couch.

"She's not up yet?" He chuckles. Joseph and I shake our heads, but Maren doesn't look amused.

She downs the rest of her coffee in one gulp before putting her mug in the sink, under the tap. She turns on the cold water. "She's about to be."

John looks confused as Maren fills the cup up, not sure what's going on. But then she turns off the water, picks it up and starts walking toward the couch with purpose, and he finally gets it, his expression settling on shock instead. This must not be a normal occurrence for him.

I smile, taking a mug from the cupboard and offering it to him. "Coffee?"

He looks like he doesn't know what to say, watching Maren stride to the couch with more energy than I've seen from her this morning. She stands in a place where she won't get hit and then, without ceremony or suspense, dumps the whole thing over Riley's head. There's a resulting yelp as Riley jerks away from the site of the trauma, causing her to fall the the carpeted floor with a dull thump. Maren is already walking away, in no mood to watch the reaction that she's now seen close to a dozen times.

Riley groans from the floor, the blanket tangled around her. "I've said it many times before, and I'll say it again. I don't need your help getting up!"

"Turn your alarm off." Maren orders.

"You could have just freaking said that."

Maren puts her mug in the sink and stalks out of the kitchen and into the hall with zero remorse. "Get the fuck up."

"I am. _Jeez_." With Maren gone, Riley mutters a couple other things that don't sound very pleasant.

John looks at the end result of everything before blinking a couple times and looking back at me. After a moment of deliberation, he says, "Yeah, I'll take a coffee, thanks."

I give him the cup and look back to check on Riley, who's still on the floor, slowly shaking her head back and forth. "Did you hit your head?" I ask, only now concerned.

"No." She grunts. "I have water in my ear."

Joseph can't help himself and laughs as she starts hitting the heel of her hand into her head. "Well shit, I wouldn't want to get on her bad side." He says, grinning. John nods, agreeing.

"That's not even her bad side." I say. John pauses with his task of making coffee and Joseph's eyes widen. I recognize looks of fear on both their faces.

I stifle a smile and look back at Riley, who's decided that the floor is a good place to resume her sleep. I sigh. "R..."

"Yeah. I know, I know..." She replies but it doesn't seem like she's getting up anytime soon.

"We need to leave in ten minutes."

She immediately pushes herself up, getting her bearings in record time. John and Joseph look taken aback by her sudden motivation as she throws the blanket back on the couch and starts toward the bathroom without a word.

"Hey, Riley? Your hair is a little..." John trails off with a slight chuckle as water literally drips from her hair.

Riley shrugs. "Jokes on her. I usually wet my hair before I put it up anyway." She gives a small, smug smile and disappears down the hallway. It's at least a good sign that she started cracking jokes, it means she's slowly accepting the fact she can't sleep any longer.

Not a moment after she's gone, Stanley emerges from the hall. His hair is disheveled and he's in the process of putting on a shirt. I have a feeling Riley saw more than she thought she would on her trip to the room. Stanley looks at us and points backwards with his thumb, where Riley must have went. "What happened to her?"

"Maren." Joseph and John answer at the same time.

Stanley just blinks at the answer, apparently uninterested in any further explanation. "Do I smell coffee?" He asks.

John doesn't answer, instead just taking another cup from the cupboard and filling it up. He passes it to Stanley, who takes a long sip. I notice he drinks it black, just like Maren. I can't imagine she'll be happy about another similarity.

"Wait, we have twenty minutes until the lodge opens." Joseph says, looking at the clock. "Why'd you tell her ten?"

"Well she's up, isn't she?" I reply.

"That's evil." He accuses.

"Not evil." John says, holding up a finger. "Efficient." He corrects, nodding in approval.

"Thank you." I say. He holds out his mug and we clink them together before taking a sip. Stanley narrows his eyes and wags a finger between the two of us.

"What is this? An alliance or something?" He asks, suspicious.

"Yes." John replies immediately. "It includes every sensible person here." He smiles apologetically. "You didn't make the cut."

Stanley huffs into his coffee while John sips his. The former shoots a look at Joseph when he snorts. "I don't know what you're laughing about. If I didn't make the cut then your ass sure as hell didn't."

Joseph just smiles smugly. "Of course I did. Right John?" John takes in a breath but stays silent. Joseph's mouth drops open. "That's so mean! I'm sensible!"

"Sorry dude. The members have already been chosen." John apologizes. "It's me, Marina, Maren and Riley. No room for anybody else."

"You might want to rethink that last one." I advise.

"It's me, Marina and Maren." John corrects. He takes another sip of his coffee.

Joseph scoffs. "That means there's an open spot!"

"Ugh." Stanley groans dramatically. "Take your rejection like a man and come over to the good side." He smirks and Joseph uncertainly leans against the island opposite to me and John.

"That's the best you could come up with? ' _The good side_ '?" John mocks.

"It's better than ' _the sensible side_ '." Stanley defends.

Suddenly Maren comes around the corner, rolling her eyes. "I think you all belong on _the stupid side_." She mutters. Her dragging feet take her in front of John, who raises an eyebrow when she looks at him flatly. "Coffee. Move. Now." She shoos him away with a wave of her hand and starts making another coffee, her back turned to a grinning Stanley.

"Ah, and I see sleeping beauty has awoken at last. Did you finally recover from that poison apple?" He looks so pleased that I almost feel bad for wanting to laugh.

His words actually make Maren pause her work, her mug empty and coffee pot held in the air, ready to pour. Her eyebrows furrow as if she can't believe what she just heard. Eventually she just shakes her head and continues pouring. "I'm completely convinced you didn't graduate kindergarten."

Stanley's eyebrows furrow, unable to tell what was wrong in his statement. Joseph laughs but is quickly silenced by a well-aimed glare from his friend. Thankfully Riley steps back into the kitchen before things can escalate. Her fully-clothed presence compared to the mess that was asleep on the couch just five minutes ago must be jarring for the guys, because they all just look at her in silence for a moment.

"Now, _that's_ efficient." Stanley says.

Riley's eyebrows furrow. "What?" She asks, confused about how getting ready in just under five minutes isn't normal. She's about to lean on the counter next to Maren but Stanley stops her.

"Nope, you can't go on that side." He grabs her arms and pulls her over to the island, next to him. "The alliances must not associate."

" _What_?" She repeats.

"You know we're associating literally right now?" Maren points out.

"Only because you just started talking to me." Stanley gives her a 'duh' look and she rolls her eyes, putting her mug down and leaving the kitchen.

"It's too early for this shit."

. . .

"I'm hungry." Maren complains next to me, folding her arms. We're in the cafeteria line, slowly moving forward every few seconds as the cooks serve the few guests in front of us. Although I have to agree with her, because with the scent of breakfast food in the air and the bag on my back, it seems like an eternity.

On the other side of me, Joseph grins. "Well, there's no better place for you to be then!" He replies optimistically.

He gestures proudly toward the cafeteria menu while Maren sends me a not-so-subtle expression that reads ' _Is this guy for real right now?_ '. I shoot her a stern look in return and she rolls her eyes, relenting. Joseph is oblivious.

"There's like fifty people in front of us." Stanley grumbles.

John looks ahead and counts the people in line. "There's seven people in front of us." He corrects patiently. The line moves and we all take a slow step forward. John nudges his friend with his shoulder, smiling smugly. "Now there's six."

Stanley just blinks hard and roughly rubs a hand down his face, as though still trying to wake up. "It better be the best breakfast I've ever had."

As he continues to complain, I feel something tapping my arm repeatedly. I turn to Maren, curious about her new level of alertness. She stops tapping and nods in the direction of the kitchen.

"You see the cook?" She asks.

My eyebrows tug in and I look in the direction. I tilt my head. "The guy with the beard? What-"

She cuts me off with a huff. "No, the other one." I take another look at the second cook in line, short dark hair in a net and smiling as he asks the next person in line what they want. "Look familiar?" Maren presses.

"Yeah actually..." I trail off, trying to figure out the weird sense of familiarity. But then it clicks and my eyes widen. "Wait... that's Trey."

Maren nods. "He cut his hair."

I remember him from grade ten, although he was in grade twelve at the time. He was the quite the rebel, always smoking, rumoured drug dealer and the king of skipping class. He hardly ever went to school and when he did he'd have a detention slip in less than an hour, which he would also skip out of. He was the classic bad boy, the type of guy you really would not want to get involved with.

He was also Riley's boyfriend.

"What's he doing here?" I ask, my voice suddenly way quieter as the situation becomes strangely more secretive.

"You think I know?" Maren replies.

"What are we going to do?" I ask instead.

Maren sighs, shaking her head and seemingly just as much at a loss as I am. "I don't know, maybe we should tell her."

"Maybe." I agree, but doubt wedges into the back of my mind. "Would she want to know though? Would it just stress her out?"

Suddenly Joseph leans over, talking just as quietly. "It seems like you guys are talking really secretly and stuff, so I don't know if it makes a difference or not but Riley is coming this way."

Maren and I immediately spin around extremely obviously to see Riley walking toward us on the way back from getting the lift tickets. Thankfully, she's too busy looking down at the stuff in her hands to notice our very suspicious movement. We quickly attempt to look casual as she looks up, readjusting the bag on her back that's bigger than mine since she has her snowboarding gear in it. Her and Stanley's snowboards are already outside on the racks.

"So I got the lift passes." She says as she joins the rest of us. She yawns as she looks down at the stickers, still suffering with the early hour. "Gets us around the whole mountain."

She looks up at the menu displayed over the kitchen, blinking a couple a times to read it. I hope she's too tired to notice the familiar face, or I hope he's changed too much for her to recognize him. But then I remember that while he may look different, Riley looks almost the exact same as she did in grade ten. Surely he'll recognize her if he sees her.

"You should go get a table, R." Maren suggests, probably sharing my thoughts. "In case it fills up fast." She adds.

Riley makes a point to look at the now four people ahead of us and raises a tired eyebrow. "There's like a hundred tables, Maren."

"No, I think you should go get one." Stanley yawns, and I'm too relieved he's unknowingly helping us out to comment of him and Maren's agreeing on something. "Then you can take our stuff over. My bag is killing me."

Riley snorts. "Aren't you supposed to be super strong or something?"

"Yeah, but I'm also super tired." He holds out his bag, bigger like Riley's, and she sighs, but takes it.

"Oh here, take mine too." Maren says, passing it too her. Soon she's loaded down with everyone's bags, barely balancing them in her arms.

"Get me a sandwich or something." She says as she walks away.

Maren nods even though Riley can't see it, before shooting me a relieved look. I don't really think it'll be too horrible if she finds out, but she's supposed to be having fun here, and no matter how she feels, seeing an ex-boyfriend is going to complicate that.

"Thanks by the way, Joseph." Maren says, nodding in approval. Even if he doesn't know the actual purpose of his warning, he smiles in pride at the recognition from the usually neutral girl.

I'm a little nervous as we approach the front of the line, and it's kind of ridiculous because it shouldn't matter to me if he recognizes me or not. He's only hung out with us a couple of times anyway. Maren goes in front of me and he seems like he's studying her as she approaches. She orders two breakfast sandwiches.

"Do I know you from somewhere?" He asks her, trying to figure her out. His voice is low and a little rough, but some girls like that. Riley definitely did.

"Don't think so." Maren replies, looking right at him, as though daring him to remember.

"Oh." He says, looking away from the harsh look to finish the sandwich. "You just look really familiar." Maren just shrugs, so he looks at me instead. "You do too." His eyebrows furrow and he shakes his head. "Sorry, it's just... weird."

I smile at him and he seems relieved at the different reaction. "Don't worry about it." I tell him. I don't know why I'm being nice to him. He was a huge asshole when he was in school, but I'm just getting a different feeling from him now. He's right. It _is_ weird.

He hands Maren the second sandwich and looks at me with a friendly smile. "Alright, what'll it be for you, darlin?"

I tell him my order and try not to laugh when I think of what Maren's reaction would be if he called her that. He hands me my food and asks Joseph what he wants. I get a drink and then use the meal card we were given to pay for it. Maren immediately goes to the table but I wait for Joseph, I watch him smile as he pays for his stuff, but the smile fades when he turns around, looking over his shoulder at the used-to-be rebel.

"Did you hear that?" He asks, his voice sour. He puts on a low voice. " _What'll it be for you, darlin_?" He shakes his head, apparently disgusted.

I hold back a laugh. "He was being nice."

Joseph scoffs. "He called you darling. He can't do that. _I_ don't even do that." He huffs. I look sideways at him with an arched eyebrow. "What?"

I finally laugh and shake my head. "Oh nothing, _darling_." I smile at him and he huffs again, walking slightly in front of me as he initiates the hunt for whatever table Riley chose for us.

"Whatever." He says. "I'm allowed to be a little protective, okay? Especially when he was definitely trying to flirt with you."

"He was being nice." I repeat.

"Oh yeah? Well if nice is what you want, I can create a lot things to call you that are more creative than _darlin_." He gets a step in front of me and starts walking backwards, his eyes suddenly teasing and playful when compared to his sour mood just seconds ago. It must take a special type of person to cheer up that fast. Although I have a feeling he was never actually as upset as he was letting on.

"Please, enlighten me." I say dramatically, keeping an eye out for anything behind him that may pose a threat to his smooth walking.

He grins properly, and it's then that I know I'll just love whatever he comes up with. "Well, for starters there's Kitten, Pumpkin, Snookums, Honey..." he smirks. "Sweet cheeks."

I almost choke at the final name, but I thankfully manage to get my surprised state to form some coherent words. "Definitely not the last one." I say, heat creeping into my face.

He's too used to this reaction to tease me anymore about it, instead giving me a disappointed pout as he comes back to my side, walking forward now. "You didn't like it? I thought that one was the best." He huffs in mock offence. I can't keep in a smile because it looks like it takes so much effort for him to look anything but cheerful. "Which one do you want out of the rest then?" He asks.

"Oh, I don't know, there's so many good options."

"The choice is yours, Your Majesty."

I sigh, pretending to be in deep thought. "I think 'Sea Girl' is just Fine." I decide. An expression of genuine pride beams on his face, and seeing it makes me glad I said what I did.

"You sure you don't want to be called darling?" He teases.

"Very sure."

He grins and puts an arm over my shoulders, quickly leaning down to kiss the top of my head. "Well, the Queen has spoken."

When we find the table, it's easy to decide where to sit because it seems everyone has automatically fallen into the same seating positions that we have in school. Joseph takes a seat next to John and I sit next to him, as usual. Nobody is talking but I don't mind. It's still only eight o'clock, so I don't know if I'd feel like talking even if anyone had anything to say.

"So, is learning to snowboard hard, Riley?" Joseph quickly breaks the peaceful silence, apparently not feeling the same as the rest of us.

Stanley looks up after just taking a bite from his sandwich. "Why did you just ask her? I snowboard too."

"I want an honest answer, not a cocky one." Joseph replies.

Stanley looks offended and if it wasn't so early, Riley might laugh. Instead she just smiles a little. "It's really not that hard. It's just unnatural at first." She says with a shrug. "But I don't know if you should trust me because I haven't been snowboarding since..." She appears to think about it.

"Since you were eleven?" Stanley asks.

"Ten, actually." She replies matter-of-factly.

He rolls his eyes. "Like a year makes a difference."

"It makes a big difference because you're wrong." She stuffs her sandwich into her mouth while Stanley looks almost incredulous at her mood. On the other side of her, Maren almost smiles.

Joseph doesn't break the silence anymore.

. . .

You know, it's funny. I've always liked winter. Everything about it just seemed _right_. The chill in the air never seemed to bother me as much as it did everyone else, nights are dark and quiet like they should be, and nobody can deny the tranquility that comes with a few inches of freshly fallen snow.

Now, as I stare down the shallow slope of the bunny hill for the eleventh time, I'm having trouble convincing myself why this was ever my favourite season.

My first problem; the snow. You see, when I first thought of this, I had only agreed because I imagined that falling on snow would be much better than falling on any other surface. Sadly, freshly fallen snow isn't ideal skiing conditions, so the snow I am going over has been painstakingly groomed and packed down into what feels like the same consistency as a paved road. It's super fun to wipe out on for the fifteenth time.

My second problem; skiing is hard.

I swear, John is doing to best he can to teach me, but for some reason it seems I'm having a hard time catching on. At first, he assured me that it was just like skating but with really long skates. After that analogy failed to yield any success, he just told me to try my best, and gave up on attempting to relate it to things I already know how to do. I started to look at skiing as an entirely new skill. But God, it's been a hell of a lot harder than I thought.

"Ready?" John stands beside me on his own rented skis. He always waits until I'm ready to go by myself and is an extremely patient teacher. I feel sorry for him that I'm such a sucky student, but he keeps insisting that he doesn't mind teaching me.

"Never been more ready in my life." I reply, trying to replace my fear with determination, but finding tiredness and the urge to give up most prevalent. "Just... give me a minute."

John chuckles. "Remember What I told you. Keep your skis in a triangle shape to go slow and put weight on one foot to turn-"

"And try to zig zag down the hill to control my speed." I finish his words and he grins.

"See? You're practically an expert already."

I snort and shake my head, dreading the trip down. I've fallen every time so far. "Alright, lets go." I sigh.

"That's the spirit." John encourages. It does nothing to make my confidence better but at least he's still trying.

I start off unsteadily, my skis in a triangle shape like they always are. It's to help me go slow John says, but he also says the zig zag pattern he's making me do is to control my speed so I wonder if I can just cut one option out and get better results. I doubt it.

John follows behind me in case I fall, easily keeping up with my shaky pace. He doesn't do the triangle with his skis, instead just turning them to the side to slow down like you would on ice skates. He told me it took him a while to learn to do that, so I think it's safe to say I'm stuck with the triangle for the extent of the trip. It surprisingly seems to be working for me this time down the hill. Little kids whip past me every now and then, looking like they should have long since graduated from the bunny hill, but I try not to pay attention to them and keep my focus solely of triangles and zig zags.

I almost want to cry when I reach the bottom without falling. I stop and take a breath because I'm pretty sure I was holding it the entire time. John easily stops himself right next to me, grinning harder than me and holding up his hand for a high five. Our poles clang together when we do it.

"I think I'm gonna take a break when we get back up." I tell him as we make our way to what is called 'the magic carpet'. It's basically just a long rubber walkway but it moves, so all you need to do is stand on it to take you to the top of the bunny hill.

"You deserve it, that was a good run." He agrees. "Who knows, you might even be ready for the big girl hill after lunch." He teases.

I give him a look that he probably can't see through my goggles, but he laughs anyway. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves." I put the front of my skis onto the rubber thing and it pulls the rest of me on, starting the short trip up the hill.

The hardest part about the magic carpet is getting off, so I'm proud when I manage to do it without too much trouble. I take off my skis with a little struggle when I get near a bench and immediately take a seat next to Stanley, who's doing something on his phone, one foot rested on his snowboard.

"I saw that run, good job." He says, nodding.

I've learned that Stanley really isn't a bad guy most of the time. Aside from a few petty ideals and the player attitude, he's nice. I think he's just one of those people that need to grow on you. "Like mold", Maren had said flatly when I proposed the idea to her. And after that I decided to keep any other ideas to myself, because in truth, they're both people who need to grow on you and I really don't think that anything I say will make them grow any faster.

He looks down at my unattached skis and then back at me, seeming to draw a conclusion. "Taking a break?" He asks.

"Yup." I stretch my legs in front on me, my heels falling heavily into the packed snow. Honestly, ski boots are the most uncomfortable things I've ever put on my feet, so I'm grateful to take the pressure off. "When are you actually going to use that snowboard?" I ask him.

He shrugs. "When I get on a real hill."

I roll my eyes only a little. Ever since we've been up here Stanley has refused to even strap the thing on his feet, as though his reputation will be ruined if anybody sees him taking a practice run of the kid's hill.

Riley hasn't put her snowboard on yet either though, but she could care less about pride. Between helping both Maren and Joseph learn to snowboard, she's hardly had enough time to go on a run herself. Instead, she mostly walks down the hill backwards, holding onto the hands as they learn to make stops and steer. Of course, she can only teach one person at a time, so the job has her running back and forth between the two. Thankfully it looks like snowboarding boots are more comfortable than ski boots.

She's helping Maren right now, telling her instructions as she kind of jogs backwards down the hill, holding her hands to help with balance. She nods once and then let's go, quickly stepping away to let Maren maneuver by herself. She's actually picked it up quite fast, which isn't really surprising coming from Maren. She goes confidently but slowly for a minute before Riley tells her to stop, then she sits down in the snow. I envy that ability, because if I sit down with skis on, I'll need at least one other person to help me up. It's been John's job so far, although Riley had to help out once too. Not my proudest moment.

Riley cheers for her and begins to jog up the hill a little bit to start down with Joseph. She kind of moves them in small incrimants so it's easier to go back and forth, but it still must be pretty taxing.

"Alright." She pants when gets to Joseph, holding her hands out with a grin to help him up. She helps pull him up and takes a few moments to get her breath back before talking again. "So do you want to try on your own?"

He doesn't even think about it before shaking his head. "I don't think I'm ready yet." He says apologetically.

She nods, smiling reassuringly even though it's easy to see how tired she is. She may not have any energy left to snowboard by the time she's done teaching them. "That's okay." She grabs his hands and starts doing the jogging backwards thing again. They do the same zig zag pattern.

"Hey, Pierce!" Stanley calls. She's not the far away since she's just started taking them down so she hears him immediately and looks up while still trying to focus on Joseph. "When do you think you'll be ready to go up?"

This is probably the tenth time he's asked her when she'll be ready to up to the actual mountain. Every other time she's responded with a 'not yet' or 'maybe soon', but she must be too tired to care about politeness at this point.

"Well, maybe if I had some help this would go faster." She says pointedly.

I watch him have a short debate in his head until he stands up and marches down the hill with a purpose. He makes a straight path toward where Maren is sitting in the snow. She barely has time to glance behind her before he lifts her upright without so much as a warning.

"Come on, Sweetheart. Let's do this." He says, holding up his hands to her.

"Yeah, no fucking way."

I notice a few parents look her way at her words, but she doesn't care. She attempts to cross her arms but isn't exactly that balanced so she ends up grabbing one of his hands instead. He smirks.

"There you go. I think if we just work together we can accomplish beautiful things. What do you say?"

"No."

He grabs her other hand. "I think you mean yes."

"No, I mean-"

He gives her a tug before she can finish and the end of the sentence gets expelled in a curse word. I hear him saying things to her in an obnoxiously soothing tone but I don't manage to catch anything she says back. Judging by Stanley's laughs every few seconds, it's nothing family friendly.

At least Riley can now get a break, only having to go downhill now instead of circling back up in small increments. Eventually she switches Joseph around so he's facing backwards and she can actually see where she's going over his shoulder. That must mean he's improving because Maren graduated to that stage a while ago and now is going down the hill almost completely independently, making Stanley's job incredibly easy.

I'm still sitting on the little bench at the top of the hill when everybody steps off the magic carpet after their run down the hill. John is with them since I insisted I would be fine up here by myself while he went down. Everybody slides off the thing except for Stanley and Riley, who look strange stepping off it like an escalator.

"You're still taking a break?" Maren calls as she scoots her way over, looking weirdly comfortable on her snowboard already.

"Don't judge." Riley says, starting a trudge over. "Some of us are tired." She drops heavily into the spot next to me, sighing. "I never want to run up another hill for the rest of my life."

"I never want to go down another hill for the rest of my life." I retort.

"Aw, poor thing." She laughs, nudging me with her shoulder. "You're doing so good though. Who knew you had a secret skiing talent all these years?"

"I don't think talent is the right word for it." I chuckle, marking lines in the snow with the heels of my boots.

There's a settling weight on the other side of me and I turn to see Stanley. "Whew, that was a bit tiring." He stretches his feet out in front of them as though taking a load off. I hear Riley take in a breath like she's about to say something, but then she just decides to hold it for a moment instead.

Maren slides in front of the bench and roughly drops to the ground. "Somebody tell me the time." She demands while Joseph awkwardly hops around her to sit on the other side, much more gingerly. John is the only one who stays standing, leaning on his poles on the other side of Stanley.

Riley reaches inside her already un-zippered -very bright- coat, taking her phone from an inside pocket and pressing the power button. "Twelve forty two." She announces.

Stanley grins and claps his gloved hands together. "Just in time for lunch."

"You never got to go up on the trails yet, did you?" John asks.

Stanley's smile disappears. "Nope."

"Well we can all go up after lunch." Joseph suggests. Without knowing it, my head snaps toward him. Everyone else nods along but I'm not feeling so confident.

"Don't worry, Mar. You were doing really good just then." Maren assures, probably expecting the reaction.

"That was the only time I didn't fall." I retort.

"See? You're doing great! Definitely ready for the next step." Riley says enthusiastically. When she notices I'm still not convinced she tones it down a little. "Look, there's a really easy trail up there. It only gets steeper than this hill a couple times. You should be able to do it no problem."

John nods. " _I_ think you'll be fine, if that helps." I don't tell him that it really doesn't help at all, instead nodding. Besides, I probably won't ever be ready in my opinion so I have to do it sometime.

"Great! Let's get lunch!" Stanley exclaims. Food seems like enough motivation for him to snowboard down the hill, because he reaches down and starts doing up the straps as Riley stands to grab her own snowboard. They're the only two that didn't rent all their equipment, not including John, who had his own helmet and goggles but rented his skis.

"Ready to show us how it's done?" Maren teases as Riley straps her snowboard on.

Riley laughs, not sounding confident. "I'm going to fall."

"What do you mean?" I ask. "Aren't you like, really good at this?"

She shrugs as she stands back up. "Well, I was. But I haven't done this in seven years." She gestures to Maren. "You're probably better than me right now."

Maren snorts. "I doubt it."

"Besides, isn't it like riding a bike or something?" I jump in.

Riley just shrugs again, apparently unconcerned. "I guess we'll find out."

We all turn as Stanley lets out a loud groan. Wen he gets the attention of everyone, he gestures down the hill angrily. "Come on. Are we gonna eat or not?"

"Are you really that hungry?" John asks.

"You don't come between a man and his food, Johnny." Stanley replies, deathly serious. John looks concerned.

Nobody argues with that.

. . .

"Alright, Mar. Just remember that it's perfectly safe."

"Yup."

"You're going to be fine."

"For sure."

"And nothing bad is going to happen."

"Definitely."

I stare at the chair lift in front of me with determination. Some time in the next few minutes, I will be trusting the huge hunk of metal to somehow drag me to the summit of the mountain by the power of mechanics alone. But it's fine. I trust it completely. I trust it like I would trust my own mind. Because I've been assured by multiple people, multiple times that nothing bad has, ever, or will happen involving this contraption of steel pulleys and cushions. I will be fine, and I am sure of it.

With a new confidence, I gaze at the slow moving chairs disappearing over the top of the mountain, and I nod. "Yup, I'm not going."

"Marina-"

"Nope, it's not happening. I'm supposed to trust that rusty piece of junk to get me and a hundred other people to the top of a two thousand foot mountain without killing itself? I think not."

I think I see Maren smile in front of me and Riley presses her lips together. "Actually, it's two thousand one hundred-"

"I don't care! I'm not doing it." I twist my head from side to side, trying to find a clear path out.

"Marina." Joseph tries again, trying to comfort me from his place ahead of me. "It's going to be fine."

"Yeah, that's what everyone thinks before it's _not_ fine." I cross my arms and glare up at the hill stubbornly. When I see Joseph's amused smile, I try to calm down, taking a deep breath. "I know, I'm sorry. It's just..." I trail off, feeling like an idiot.

"It's scary." Joseph fills in.

"It's really high up." I correct, even though we both know he's right. Stanley tugs his arm and he scoots forward as the line moves ahead, causing me to progress too, along with my nerves.

"Well, it's not _that_ high." Riley jumps in. She's right beside me since we decided on three to a chair. She is the unlucky person that ended up with the job of consoling me in all my terrified glory for the entire ride up the hill. "I know it looks like it, but really, we probably won't even be more than thirty feet off the ground at any point." She says. I nod, trying to take comfort in her words, but something in my mind gets stuck on the word 'probably'.

The line moves again and Joseph, Maren and Stanley slide up to get ready to move to the next chair. Joseph turns and smiles at me. "I'll see you at the top." They move up to the stop line and I watch as the chair comes around the turn slowly, bouncing when the three of them sit on it.

"Alright, let's go." John says.

I don't exactly want to go, but I move forward anyway for the sake of not causing a scene. After a clumsy progression to the stop line from me, I anxiously look over my shoulder at the slowly approaching chair.

"You know it's not going to come any faster if you look at it, right?" Riley teases.

I sigh and give her a look. "Shut-" My words end in almost a yelp as the chair hits the back of my knees, sending me sitting down much faster and less graceful than I had hoped. Suddenly the snow disappears from under my skis and the ground moves farther away. I scoot back as far as I can go as I watch the distance slowly get larger as the lift takes us higher.

"See? That wasn't so hard." Riley encourages. I don't say anything, just staring down at the ground that's too far below me and wishing the lift would reverse.

"It seems a lot higher from up here." I say.

"Well, don't look down then." John suggests. I take his advice and look up, but seeing how far we have left to go does next to nothing to ease my nerves.

"Just close your eyes, Mar." Riley says. I don't need to be told twice, although the swaying of the chair and the creaking of metal makes it impossible for me to imagine I'm still on the ground. Not to mention that the weight of my dangling skis feels like it's going to pull me off the chair, despite the rail that has been pulled down in front of me.

"She has a thing with heights." I hear Riley explain to John, although I suspect he's probably picked up on that by now. I hear rustling and when the chair jolts a little stronger than normal, I assume that Riley is adjusting her position. There's a few moments of frigid silence. "I mean, when you think about it, there's really nothing to worry about." Riley tries.

"There are a million things to worry about." I argue.

"Well don't think about them." She says.

"It's not that easy."

"It really is. Just... I don't know try opening your eyes again."

I'm immediately sceptical but I force my eyes open again, the height and the strengthening breeze playing an equal part in making me want to close them again. They widen instead when I see the ground below. "Oh my God we're up higher now."

"Yeah, but Just look at all the people down there. They all came up on this and they're fine." Riley says gently.

I watch the people on the hill, now small from my perspective, weave around under the chairs on the lift, completely ignoring the swinging seats of steel hanging just above them.

"We could land on them." I voice my first thought.

"Okay, that's not where I was going with-"

"If we fall we're going to land on them and then we'll all die."

"Maybe opening your eyes wasn't the best idea. I think we just really need to calm-"

"I'm going to die." I affirm the statement with a nod. "Yup. This is how I die." I do a quick gesture that was taught to me from a young age, not really thinking about it. For a moment, only the sound of the breeze and metal creaking breaks the silence.

"Did you actually just _bless_ yourself?" Riley asks in amused disbelief.

"Well there's not much left to do. We're already on this stupid thing so it's out of my hands." I hold up my palms to emphasize my point before crossing my arms and closing my eyes again, because this whole vision nonsense is not helping matters.

Riley starts laughing and I hear John chuckle too. I had almost forgotten he was here too, acting as a bystander to my panicked anger. Poor guy.

"No offence, Mar, but God can't help you if we start falling." Riley says. I feel her shrug against my shoulder. "Gravity might."

"Thanks. I feel much better now." I mutter sarcastically.

I feel kind of bad because even with my eyes closed I know the uncertain expression on her face. She's not bad at dealing with other people's emotions, but panic is a different story, and since she now knows jokes won't work, I can tell she doesn't know what else to say. She knew I was going to be this way though. She could have been the one on the other chair, teaching Maren and Joseph how to get off the lift and sending Stanley back with John and I, but she insisted. I can't tell if she regrets her decision now, but she's apparently not giving up.

"Okay uh, just... um- oh!" I open my eyes as she tries to snap her fingers, but her gloves prevent the sound. "Let's think about facts! Yeah, it's like the only thing I'm good at, this is good. Just think about, uh... think about this things' success rate and the metal cable and the w- _not_ the weight capacity." Her eyes widen and she shakes her head. "Nope, _definitely_ don't think about that, that was stupid. How about we _don't_ think about the ski lift. Think about snow or trees or- or just think about winter and vacations and I'm running out of things to say, is any of this- why are your eyes open?"

Her furrowed eyebrows of thought suddenly shoot up as she stops. She still looks uncertain and a little panicked and suddenly it's funny, because now she's the one who needs help.

"R, I think you need to calm down." I say. She looks at me for a moment, expression unchanging. Then she looks away and makes a sound that's halfway between a laugh and a scoff.

"Right. You're over here convinced that our last hope lies in the Holy Father, but I'm obviously the one who needs to calm down."

I hold back a laugh. "You know, you're pretty bad at this whole comforting thing, right?"

"Yes, I know. You know." She looks at John around me, who smiles sheepishly in agreement, and makes a wild gesture at him. " _He_ knows. We all know. But guess who's not panicked anymore?" My face clears as I realize she right. She points at John urgently. "Hey, quick! Teach her how to get off the lift before she comes back to her senses."

John chuckles before beginning an unnecessarily elaborate instruction on how to get off the lift when the time comes. All the while I can feel fear pumping back into me as I catch glimpses of the ground that's much too far away. Getting off the lift doesn't stress me out nearly as much as the distance to the hard packed snow below. John stops talking when there is nothing else he could possibly say on the subject, giving me plenty of opportunity to amplify my panic by looking up the mountain and seeing the distance we have left to go.

"How much longer?" I ask.

"We're about a quarter there right now." John replies.

"Only a quarter? But we've been on here for like-"

"Three minutes." Riley says patiently.

I nod and try to keep my eyes focused straight ahead, but find them drifting down anyway. My eyes catch a patch of trees instead of a ski trail. I nod again, settling my back against the seat and closing my eyes once more.

"Yup. This is definitely how I die."

"Oh, not again!"

. . .

Riley lied. She said this trail should be no trouble for me, but the muscles in my thighs are obviously having a completely different opinion. I'm convinced they've somehow caught fire and are actually burning beneath my skin. Who would have known skiing would be so strenuous? Okay, maybe a lot of people. Still, despite how obvious it is, I would have liked to be told.

I breath hard as I come to a shaky stop on a relatively flat part of the trail. John, who decided to be at the front of our little teaching group, chuckles a little, looking unbothered. Of course he is. Not only does he have more experience with this sport, all the other sports he plays must keep him in great shape. I suddenly regret not branching out to other areas of exercise as of late.

Joseph and Stanley come next, Stanley being Joseph's supervisor like John is kind of mine. Maren is last since we discovered early that she needs to have people in front of her to slow her pace. If not, she'll just leave the rest of us behind. She advanced unsurprisingly fast.

Joseph, Maren and Stanley all drop down on the snow once they reach us, taking advantage of their ability to sit down and get back up easily. Riley stops next to Maren and pats the top of her helmet a couple times, for encouragement I'm guessing. Not that she needs any.

"This stuff is pretty tiring, isn't it?" Joseph says eventually, leaning forward with his elbows rested on his knees. I'm happy at least that somebody else is sharing my struggle, even if it's not completely the same. Maren shrugs at his statement and he scoffs. "Of course _you're_ not tired. You're like, invincible or something."

Maren doesn't reply, although I'm 99% sure the expression beneath her goggles in an arched eyebrow. She doesn't really know how to respond when people call her out on stuff, mostly because people just _don't_. Joseph doesn't seem to notice anything though, just sighing tiredly after, but grinning anyway. As much as he's complaining, it's obvious that he's having a good time.

"Well we should get going again. We're not even halfway there yet." John says.

 _Seriously? Not even halfway?_ My mind repeats bitterly as we start to move again. But honestly, as much as I can complain about the pain in my legs, or my apparent inability to balance, this is actually fun. It's nice learning something new and it feels good to actually be decent at it. Plus, the silence in the frigid air broken only by the sounds of scraping snow is pretty calming. Maybe I would even call this skiing thing relaxing.

John goes in front of me since he has to set a reasonable pace. It also helps because I try to follow his path and it makes it easier for me to know where to go. Eventually I get back into the rhythm of going back and forth, kind of just doing it automatically as I'm actually able to take in everything around me for the first time. I didn't really notice it when I was on the lift -because I was focused on not dying-, but the trees are huge here. It's a weird thing to note when I should probably be focusing on the height of the mountain or the huge snow drifts, but they're seriously massive. The huge pines tower over me with height I'm unaccustomed to. Big piles of snow weigh down their branches, but it doesn't fall, hanging on by what seems to be the power of tranquility alone. As I crane my neck to try and find the top of the things, I make a mental note to ask Riley about the reason for the height of the trees later. She'd probably know.

And then suddenly, just as I was thinking about the peacefulness of it all, a hiccup in the snow interrupts my progress. I'm not sure what happens, but one ski goes one way and the other ski goes the opposite way. Things happen quickly after that.

I twist my right foot to line the ski up with my left. I look up as I begin to go straight. _Straight_ down the steep ledge of the trail, which happens to be filled with fresh snow, but also filled with bushes and small trees. I don't even have time to chide myself for my inattention before my ski gets hooked on something.

I think I fall, but I'm not exactly sure. All I know is that by the time my tumbling comes to a stop, there's snow in my jacket and a pain in my knee. I prop myself up on an elbow and look at my skis, which have somehow become tangled in a menacing looking bush. Oh well, the jagged branches stopped my descent so I can't complain. But then pain stabs my leg, and I realize I can complain.

"Shit." I mutter, cringing as I try pull it out, but quickly give up on trying to find a way out of this mess.

"Mar? Are you okay?" Riley's voice calls out from the top of the drop off, which really isn't that far above me. I guess it feels longer when you're tumbling down. Instead of responding, I stick up my hand with a thumbs up. "I'll come down there, just wait a sec." I huff out a sigh, partially relieved that she'll be the one to deal with me, and not John or Stanley. That would be embarrassing.

"No don't worry, I'll get her." Stanley's voice makes me cringe again. I really hope she'll argue with him about it.

"I can-"

"Leave it to me. It looks like Maren needs a little help anyway."

I hear the scraping snow of someone leaving the scene, and when I look up and see the huge figure of Stanley unstrapping his board, I would rather just stay here until they all leave. I'm not really in the mood to be made fun of right now.

I watch him step out of his board and stick it into the soft snow of the edge of the trail, the snow I'm currently sunk into. "Need some help there, Princess?" He asks. Snow rolls from the top of the drop off as his feet sink into the stuff on his way down, and I look away, trying to deal with some of the issue before her gets here. He'll surely have a few words to say about my predicament.

Sadly, he makes fast progress, lifting up his goggles and lodging them on his hat since he refused to wear a helmet. He pulls the scarf away from his mouth and takes a look at the mess I've gotten myself in. Here it comes, I think, preparing myself for the teasing.

"We should get these skis off." Is all he says, kneeling down and reaching through the bush to the locking mechanisms by the heels on my boots. The first one pops open with a one-handed squeeze, which is only a little impressive considering it usually takes my full body weight on my pole to get my feet out. "Are you okay?" He asks as he reaches for the second ski.

"Yeah. It was kind of a soft landing." I joke. Stanley smiles and strangely, nearly all signs of arrogance is gone. He unclips my second ski and I'm able to pull my boots from the tangle of branches with little resistance.

"I wasn't talking about the landing." He says. He points to my leg, the one that's now throbbing a little. "Looked Like you might have twisted that knee when you fell."

I just shrug. "It's not too bad." I say, and it's the truth. I used to fall all the time in skating, and ice is much less forgiving than the soft snow I'm laying in now. This isn't near the worst injury I've ever gotten.

I look up at him and he nods, trusting me to know my limits. He holds out a hand and I grab it, letting him pull me to my feet. The boots make it hard to balance and I stumble back a step, but he catches me. When he doesn't say a word as he grabs my skis, I decide to speak up.

"You can laugh if you want."

He just grins and looks at me, and for a second I think he'll take the offer. But then he just takes my skis in one hand and shakes his head. "Come on, Princess. I wouldn't do that." He insists lightheartedly. "Only a weak man would laugh at a lady in need."

"I'm not in need." I retort, hiding my surprise at his genuine kindness right now. Laughing and joking would be something I expected from Stanley Worthington, certainly not helping me without judgment.

I try to take a step up the slope, but the angle and the stiff boots make it almost impossible for me to gain traction on the soft ground. Stanley's free arm comes around my back and to my shock, he half-lifts me, making the climb much easier. He smirks. "Face it babe. I'm practically your knight in shining armour."

Despite his teasing, I can't help but laugh a little, even as my foots slips and he has to balance me again. "You're a nice guy, you know." I tell him genuinely. His only response is a sound in the back of his throat. I guess he doesn't like being called out either.

He helps me put my skis back on once we get back on the trail, actually having to go back down into the snow to fish my poles out from wherever they landed. The rest of our group wait ahead, looking back to see the progress. Riley waves when she sees I'm alright. I roll my eyes when Joseph blows me a kiss.

"Are you alright? Joseph asks when Stanley and I get over to where they've congregated on the side of the trail. "I mean, it was pretty weird. You were in front of me and I look away for _one_ second and you're gone. It's like you teleported or something."

I snort. "Yeah, I teleported myself into a bush. How very smart of me."

He puts his hands up, "Hey, it was just an observation. Jeez."

"I know." I chuckle and I just know he's grinning, even though I can't see his mouth under the scarf. "Now lets get off this stupid hill before I slide away and die."

"You know we're coming up again, right?" Riley says.

I sigh a little dramatically. "I know. I just really need the motivation."

"Oh, well in that case..."

"R, if you push me I will hit you with my pole."

"You wouldn't- ow! Okay!"

. . .

The warm air of the rental place causes me to pull down my scarf as soon as I walk in, lodging a now steamed-up pair of goggles on the top of my helmet. I make a straight path to the bench, where I drop down onto it with so much force I fear it may crack. It holds, thankfully. Because after falling five times after two more runs down the hill, I'm not in the mood to have to pick myself up again.

Joseph sits next to me, dropping down just as heavily. Without thinking about it, I lean against him and let a breath out. He looks down at me for moment before chuckling and putting an around my shoulders, taking more strain out of my muscles as he squeezes me just a little tighter.

Everyone else takes whatever benches we had when we came in. It's easier this way because we put our stuff in shelves under the bench since we didn't want to waste money on a locker. I just stare numbly at the rental desk a few feet away from me, where the guy who handles the rentals picks through a big pile of skis and snowboards, everyone dropping off their stuff after finishing the day. He's going to be here for a while after we leave.

I stick out my legs in front of the bench, the heels of my boots falling heavily to the ground and water from melted snow steadily dripping onto the carpeted floor. "I need to get these off. Like, immediately."

"Well I can't help you there." Joseph says, letting go of me as I sit up. "Mine have laces." He adds proudly.

"And you tied them all by yourself?" I feign astonishment and he wrinkles his nose at me before looking at the floor.

"The rental guy actually helped me." He says quietly.

He quickly leans down to roll up his snow pants and I laugh, leaning over to do the same thing. I pull up the bottom of my pants to reveal the stiff assortment of latches and hooks that have kept my feet and ankles immobilized for the past few hours. I try to start with the top hook but it's hard, so I work my way down until I find a latch that actually lets me loosen it. My fingertips kind of hurt after I finish the boot, and it's still tight as hell, so I just leave it on as I roll up my other pant leg. Instead of immediately reaching down to start that boot, I just stare at it for a minute, trying to figure out why anybody ever thought something like that would be a good idea.

Suddenly Maren kneels down in front of me, and even though I know she has even less experience with ski boots than me, she tries to figure it out.

"Thank you." I sigh.

She shrugs, chuckling a little. "You kind of look exhausted." She frowns as she tugs on the top latch, probably surprised at the strength of the straps. With another tug she gets it undone.

"Hey, could you do mine too?" Joseph jokes. He's pulling on the knot on his lace, and even though he was only kidding, it's obvious he's struggling with it. Maren looks over for a second and then reaches for the knot. Joseph and I both watch it unravel after one simple tug before she casually returns her focus to the latches. He looks between her and his untied laces, sighing. "Of course, _I_ can't do it. But then Miss Perfect comes along and- oh! What do you know? It was simple all along." He grumbles teasingly.

"We can't all be winners, Joseph." Maren replies with a sigh, as though being perfect takes a huge toll. I laugh and Joseph just throws up his hands.

"Why do you have an answer for everything? Like literally everything!"

She smirks but doesn't respond, which somehow is an answer in itself. She gets the last latch unhooked and holds onto the heel of the boot, looking up at me. "Okay, now pull your leg out."

"I don't think I'm strong enough." I reply truthfully.

She sits up straight again so she can look at me, rolling her eyes. "Oh come on. You've got to have muscles from skating still _somewhere_ in there."

"Nope they're all gone." I say, then after a sigh. "Along with my dreams..."

"Oh don't be so dramatic." She complains with a smile. Then she turns serious and raises an eyebrow at me. "Now, come on. We're getting these boots off now, or else I'm going to call the rental guy over to help you instead."

"Alright then. God."

She holds the boot again and this time I actually try to get my foot out. It takes more effort than I'd like to admit, but we manage to do it. When she gets into position to hold the other one, John looks over.

"Just pull the top part down. It'll give you way more room to get your feet out." He suggests. Sure enough, when we do it his way my foot almost falls out of the shoes without much effort at all.

I thank him and set the clunky boots over to one side so I have room to get my bag out of the cubby under me. "Why is your helmet still on?" Maren asks, laughing a little. I don't have a chance to answer before she pulls it from my head, raising her eyebrows. "Wow, your hair." She states.

"It Just spent, like, seven hours under a helmet. You should see your hair." I defend, digging around in my bag for my hat, which I would have liked to find before my helmet got taken off, but oh well.

"I think it looks great." Joseph says, smiling at me.

Maren makes a hand gesture at him. "Your hair is terrible too." She informs, making him look back at her with shock.

"Excuse _you_ , my hair is fabulous." He swings his head to flip it, running a hand through it afterwards. "You're just jealous."

I laugh but Maren just looks at his antics unamused. "Yup, that's it." She nods. "But as much as I envy your..." She furrows her eyebrows, "mop, I suggest you put a hat on."

Maren goes back to her bench and I chuckle at Joseph's face, which sits between shocked and offended. "Does she ever laugh?" He asks.

"Sometimes." I chuckle. I find my hat and pull it on my head while his eyebrows furrow.

"No, she has never laughed at anything I've said. Ever." He shakes his head, at a loss. "Most people find me funny, you know."

I roll my eyes. "She doesn't find a lot of things funny. Don't take it personally."

"Uh huh." He murmurs, narrowing his eyes in the direction of the bench she's sitting on. I take his hat out of his bag and hand it to him.

I leave my snow pants on since it's easier to wear them back to the room as opposed to carrying them. I put my feet in my winter boots, and tie them up, sitting back and flexing my foot.

"Oh my God. I didn't realize how comfortable these boots were until right now." I sigh, twisting my feet into the carpet. "Holy crap, I don't think I'm ever going to take these off again. Wow. Just... ugh." I close my eyes and stretch my feet in front of me, savouring the feeling of being able to move my ankles.

Joseph laughs and I open my eyes, raising an eyebrow in question. "You're just cute. That's all." He teases.

He grins when I wrinkle my nose at him, putting an arm around me and kissing the top of my head, which just happens to be my hat right now. I don't hesitate to lean into him, his arm around me just adding so much to my comfort level right now. It only takes a couple more minutes for everyone to get their stuff in order and we go upstairs to the main floor of the lodge.

We have to walk past the eating area on the way out. There's actually not that many people out here since I guess a lot of people are already off the hill and gone home. Plus it's a weekday so the hill really shouldn't be that busy today anyway. Aside from us and about a dozen more people, one employee goes from table to table to wipe them off. The employee is Trey.

This is the third time we've had to distract Riley from seeing him today. The first was sending her away at breakfast, and the second was a weirdly rushed bathroom trip during lunch when he came a little too close not to be noticed. We have to come back here for supper too. I'm running out of excuses at this point, and as I look around, I start to think our only option might be to let them run into each other and pretend like we never knew a thing.

"Hey! Look at this!" Stanley points to a poster pinned up on a wooden beam that faces away from the tables, much to my relief. If Maren and I have to make up another excuse it'll probably start to get suspicious.

We all walk over to the poster and look up at it, except for Maren, who stands looking around and waiting for someone to read it out loud.

"'Saturday Night at the Lodge'." Stanley reads out. I'm glad it's advertising for tomorrow and not tonight. I don't think I'd be up to going to a party tonight even if there was one going on. "It's on the second floor, and look, there's a live band and everything. We should go."

"Are we even allowed in? Isn't there alcohol there?" John asks sensibly.

Stanley rolls his eyes. "Only if you buy it from the bar." He shrugs. "Plus, why do you think I brought the beer? We can bring it in the cooler."

"Isn't that illegal or something?" Maren points out, finally looking at the poster.

He smirks. "Only if we get caught." He says, then adjust the bag on his shoulder, not seeming concerned. "And we won't, because who's going to report us?"

"Uh, the establishment?" John guesses.

"Whatever. I came out here to have fun, so you can all do what you want. But I'm going." Stanley declares. We all take one last look at the poster and start to walk away, toward the doors. I glance behind us to see that Trey is successfully in our wake, meaning no awkward encounters today.

"Shoot, I think I forgot my goggles downstairs." Riley sighs. "I'll be right back." She says, turning around.

"I'll get it for you." Maren interjects quickly before she can turn around fully. Riley looks confused but since Maren is already walking away, she lets her go.

"So what are we doing tonight guys?" Stanley asks eagerly.

"Do you need to be out _every_ night?" John says. "Can't you just stay home, and have a nice peaceful evening?"

"Sounds boring." Stanley dismisses. John doesn't argue and just shakes his head. "Oh there's night skiing every weekday, which includes tonight." He spreads his arms, indicating the entire group. "So who's in?"

"Considering I can barely ski in the day, I'm good thanks." I say.

Joseph grins and points his thumb at me. "I'm with her." And then he taps me. "There's a skating rink just a few minutes away. We could probably walk if you wanted to go." He asks. I'm honestly a little too tired, but seeing his excited face and the hopefulness in his eyes, I automatically agree without a second thought.

"I'll go snowboarding I think." Riley decides, nodding. Stanley and her share a fist bump initiated by him.

"So that's one down. How about you Johnny?" He asks.

John shrugs. "I'm just going to stay in the room I think. I heard they have some movies you can rent so I'll probably see what they have." He smiles, content with his plan. Stanley almost looks offended, like he can't believe some solitude can possibly be enjoyable.

"Right, _anyway_..." He drawls, rolling his eyes. "I guess it's just me and you, Pierce."

"Maren hasn't made a decision yet." She points out.

"About what?" Maren's voice cuts in from behind us, handing Riley's goggles to her so she can stuff them in her bag. She rifles around for something else even after she puts them in.

"We're just deciding what we're going to do to tonight." Joseph explains. "So far the choices are night skiing, skating, or a movie."

She's raises her eyebrows, not even bothering to pretend like she's considering the options. "Can I just go back to the room and die?" She asks flatly as we all begin to walk again, Riley still digging through her bag.

"That's what I'm doing." John says. "But I'm going to get a movie."

"Right. Well I think I'll skip the movie and sleep instead."

"Fair." John agrees. "You guys need to let Mr. Byrne know what you're doing though so he can approve it. Which he will."

"You don't need approval for your movie?" Stanley asks.

John rolls his eyes. "It's a movie. We're only supposed to let him know if we're going anywhere." Stanley eyes him suspiciously until he sighs, relenting. "If it'll make you happy, I'll get approval for my movie."

Stanley smiles and continues walking without any further arguments. Just when it looks like we'll finally be able to exit the building, Riley suddenly sighs, putting down the bag she's been digging through.

"What now?" I ask.

"I think I forgot a glove..."

"Seriously?" Maren mutters, already starting to make her way back to the rental place.

"Sheesh, Sorry. I thought I had- oh! I found it!" She triumphantly zippers the bag up while Maren makes a sharp spin back in this direction, scowling. Riley picks up her bag and her eyes widen when she sees the expression. "Nobody said you had to go get it, grumpy." She picks up her stuff and we start to go toward the doors again, the guys now ahead of us since they decided not to wait.

"It would just make it faster." Maren retorts, making up an excuse without a second thought.

"Uh huh." Riley replies skeptically. "Is something going on? You guys are acting weird today."

I'm suddenly worried that she seems to have caught onto something, but Maren doesn't miss a beat, scoffing in offence. "Thanks."

"Sorry, but it's true." Riley mumbles. She doesn't say anything else though, deciding to drop the topic as we head out through the doors and into the parking lot. I tuck my chin into the collar of my coat as the cold air hits us, although it's somehow more bearable than in town. I guess it's not as damp here since we're further from the ocean.

The guys slow down to walk with us so they can "protect the ladies" as Stanley puts it. What we need protecting from I'll never know, but I've learned to just ignore some of the things he says. Maren usually covers the responding part anyway. We all get back to the room without any of us slipping and falling, which I thought was inevitable. John doesn't waste any time before saying we need to let Mr. Byrne know what we're doing tonight.

"Do we _need_ to knock on his door?" Stanley complains afterwards. "That's so weird."

"Well he didn't leave a phone number, so unless you want to write up a nice email, let's go." John says, giving him a pointed look that silences any complaints. All the guys were nominated as information carriers for the group, so they start walking towards the door.

"I actually do have his number."

They all stop and turn to look at Riley, who pulls her phone out of her pocket. She doesn't notice the confused expressions and just scrolls through what I'm assuming are her contacts.

"Why Do you have his number?" Joseph asks.

She shrugs. "It was for robotics. He runs it."

John's eyebrows furrow. "I was in robotics last year and I don't have his number." He says.

"Dude, she's probably the biggest teacher's pet." Stanley chuckles.

"Yeah, and you're the teacher's worst nightmare." Maren cuts in. She's looking through the cupboards for something and doesn't notice Stanley's glare.

"At least I'm not a b-"

"Found it!"

* * *

 **The ending is a bit rushed but I wanted to get it up. I was going to put the "dates" in this chapter but it would have been way too long and I probably wouldn't have gotten it up until next year or something absurd like that.**

 **Anyway, basically just a long awaited fluff chapter next update. See you then and let me know what you thought, and don't forget to let me know what you think about adding more characters :)**


	22. Chapter 22

**Hey guys!**

 **Yeah, two months this time, sorry guys. I was fiddling around with the endings to each POV for a while and after scrapping and rewriting many parts of the chapter multiple times, I've finally decided it's good. If it's any consolation, this is the longest chapter yet by far... and by far I mean like longer than the previous longest chapter by 5000 words. So... yeah, if you like long chapters, I hope you enjoy! And if you don't like long chapters I'm sorry but I still hope you enjoy!**

 **Reviews:**

 **loricnumbersix6- Hey, thanks for reviewing! I really like your idea so I'll probably have to incorporate that in a few of the coming chapters. Thanks again for the suggestion :)**

 **Booklover123- Hey, Trey will not be in this chapter but he will definitely play a part in the next one. Thanks for reviewing, glad you're enjoying the story :)**

 **Tigist- Hey! I would love for people who speak a different language to be able to enjoy this story. If you don't mind, could you please PM me about it so we can talk about it? Thanks :)**

 **Thanks everyone who reviewed and/or read. As always, I love hearing from you guys and the support means so much. Anyway, you've waited long enough so onto the story, hope you enjoy!**

* * *

 **Joseph**

As I open the last cupboard in the small kitchen, I huff in disappointment. I walk around to the other side of the island and cross my arms, examining the results of my search. In final, the only thing I found was coffee, mugs, glasses, plates, bowls and silverware. It doesn't stop me from staring at the mass of open cupboard doors in hope something else will appear.

"We need hot chocolate." I conclude.

Maren lays on the couch in the living room. I saw her glance up from her phone a couple times since I started my search, but she hasn't said anything. She either knew I'd eventually tell her what I'm looking for anyway, or she couldn't care enough to ask. I have a feeling I know exactly which option is true.

"Right." She replies uninterestedly.

"No, I mean it." I insist, gesturing angrily at the open cupboards. "Like, who opens a ski lodge and doesn't put any hot chocolate in the rooms? It's ridiculous."

"Uh huh."

I look over my shoulder at her tired reply to find her on her phone. When I'm silent for long enough, she actually looks up, arching an eyebrow. "This is serious, Maren."

She hums in agreement, shifting her focus from me once again. "So I've heard."

"I want it." I continue.

"And I want a million dollars." She mutters. Her eyebrows furrow. "And popcorn. Popcorn would be good."

"Well there's none of that either." I say.

"And yet, I'm not complaining about it. Imagine that."

I give her a flat look and she returns it so effortlessly it's funny. I turn back to the cupboards before she can see I'm amused, because if she doesn't find me funny I'll be damned if I show her that she is.

"Well, I'm upset." I defend.

"We don't always get what we want, Joseph."

"Okay..." I reply, furrowing my eyebrows. "But I _need_ hot chocolate."

I hear Maren sigh, but before she can say anything about it, Marina emerges from the hall. "Thank God, the babysitter is here." Maren complains.

Marina raises her eyebrows, leaning her shoulder on the wall and looking at the mass of open cupboard doors in bemusement. When her eyes land on me, I grin at her, and a small confused smile makes its way onto her face.

"Looking for something?" She concludes.

"They don't have any hot chocolate here!" I exclaim, throwing my hands up.

She feigns worry. "Oh no. What are we going to without hot chocolate?"

"I don't know. Die?" I guess. She laughs and walks over, starting the close the cupboard doors while I stand behind the island, watching as the result of my rummaging is reversed. "We need to get some." I decide.

"Okay." She says.

"Like, tonight." I clarify. "We need to get some tonight."

"Okay." She repeats.

I raise an eyebrow at her easy agreement as she leans on the other side of the island, mimicking the expression. A grin is on my face in a moment and I lean over the counter, kissing her briefly. She smiles as I pull back. "So, you ready to go?" I ask, as though she was the one waiting on me.

"Whenever you are." She replies.

I step back and gesture toward the hall. "After you, m'lady."

I wave to Maren as we head out and she glances up long enough to give me a lazy wave back. John comes down the steps as we get into the porch, looking at me picking up my coat and drawing a conclusion.

"You guys off?" He asks.

"Yup." I reply, putting arms through the sleeves.

He nods. "Well have fun."

"You too." I say as he starts to walk away. "But not too much fun."

He doesn't justify the comment by giving a response, but I see him shake his head on the way out to the living room. I smirk before noticing that Marina has started putting on her coat, so I rush to hold it up for her so she can get her other arm through easier. I grab her hat and gently tug it onto her head, grinning.

"The Queen has been crowned." I say grandly.

She rolls her eyes and hands me my hat. "Think you can handle crowning yourself?"

"Marina of the Sea," I snatch the hat from her in mock offence, "I am an independent man." I pull the hat over my ears and smile smugly at her.

"Are you going to zip up your coat?" She asks. I go to grab for the zipper, but my gloves prevent me from getting any type of grip on it.

"That's not fair, my gloves are already on." I whine. Marina laughs and gives in, zipping my jacket up all the way to my neck, dusting off a shoulder when she's done. "Thank you, your Highness." I beam and step around her to open the door. "Lady's first?"

"Are you sure you don't want to take Riley's van? She _did_ offer you know." She says.

"It's not that far." I argue. She just shrugs, and steps outside, waiting for me on the little wooden space we have outside that's kind of like a balcony, only it has stairs going to the ground.

I feel as though I'm stepping into an ice box as soon as I step onto the creaky wood. My shoulders automatically hunch up and I reach behind me to close the door. When I turn I find that I'm already rubbing my hands together out of habit. No matter how many layers I wear, it seems it'll never be enough in the dead of winter.

Marina raises her eyebrows at my discomfort. "Are you sure you don't want to-"

"Independent man here, babe." I cut her off with an overly enthusiastic grin, hoping that I can fool my body into feeling comfortable if I just act like it.

Marina raises and eyebrow, tilting her head slightly. My smile is genuine this time. " _Babe_? That's new." She says. She puts her hands in her pockets and starts down the stairs while I try to think of a response.

"It's not new. Well, I guess it is but I feel like... you know, it's a natural progression." I make hand gestures that she can't see as I continue behind her. She laughs and turns around as we get the the bottom, her arms swinging a little as she stops. I automatically reach out a hand to take hers, swinging them together between us which I know makes her roll her eyes. "So, are you ready to start our adventure?" I ask.

"I don't know, have you changed your mind about taking the van?" She replies.

"I've made up my mind so you might as well just stop asking." I chide playfully.

She holds up one of her hands in surrender. "Okay, Okay."

I nod in affirmation and we continue. It only a takes a few steps for a light gust of wind to blow from behind me, the frigid air bitter when it hits the back of my neck. I tense up and stuff my free hand in my pocket, glancing at Marina to see if she shows any signs of discomfort. I almost huff in annoyance at her relaxed posture, completely content, even with a little smile on her face.

"You know, it _is_ minus twenty right now." She muses. I bet she knows I'm not doing so well.

"Plus the wind chill..." I continue, slowing down slightly.

"Exactly." She nods in agreement. "Nobody would blame you if you didn't want to walk."

"Yeah but-"

She cuts my words off by stopping suddenly, pulling me to a halt too. She raises her eyebrows at me. "Joseph, you're freezing."

I watch her for a moment, conflicted. But then I feel the wind again and I shiver. "You wouldn't judge me?"

She squeezes my hand. "Go get the keys."

I study her for a moment, but grin almost right after. I quickly lean down to kiss her head and then fast-walk around her, back in the direction of the room. "This is why I love you!" I call back as I turn to go up the steps. I have my foot planted on the first stair before I realize what I said. I lean back over the railing with wide eyes. "I never meant that! Wait no- I mean I did _mean_ it but not like... you know, the serious one. That doesn't count right? I mean, it was-"

"Keys, Joseph." Marina laughs as she interrupts my rambling.

"Yup, good idea."

 **Maren**

"I thought you were going to rent a movie?" I ask John as he walks into the living room. He already has plaid pyjama bottoms on and what looks like an old shirt. And while I only wear jogging pants and a sweater, I'm not the one planning on going out in public.

"I want to see if there's any movies already on the TV first." He explains.

He drops down into the chair on the other side of the TV. The living room holds three pieces of furniture; the chair he's sitting in, and two identical couches positioned on either side of the room. I'm lying on the couch Riley slept on, my head on a pillow and my feet propped up on the armrest, legs crossed at the ankles. I'm glad she's the one who had to sleep on the couch, because there's not anyone else in the suite that would be able to comfortably fit.

"There's not going to be any free movies on the TV." I say.

"There might be." He counters.

"There won't be. You're wasting your time."

He's quiet long enough for me to look over. He's already looking at me, eyebrows raised defiantly. He makes a show of raising the remote and pressing the power button, stubbornly keeping his eyes on me the whole time. I feel the side of my mouth pull into a smile and I turn to the TV as it comes to life.

He spends a few minutes looking at every single option in the menu until he chooses a couple and searches through. I can tell he's eager to find something and prove me wrong, but none of the options have anything related to movies or recordings. He ends up going so far as to look in the settings before wordlessly giving up. The TV goes black as he shuts it off.

I smirk. "Told you."

"Whatever." He huffs, throwing the remote onto the other couch. It bounces off and lands on the floor, but he doesn't care. "I thought you were going to take a nap or something."

"I was." I shrug. "But you obviously needed someone to prove you wrong, so..."

"Right." He agrees. "Well since you're obviously such an expert, you're coming with me to pick out a movie." I turn my head in question and he nods. "And then, we're going to watch it."

I raise my eyebrows at the demand. "Yeah, I _would_ but I'm already inside and the lodge is like, really far away-"

"No, you're coming." John decides. He gets up from his chair and starts down the hall, raising his voice to be heard. "I can't have you staying in here being bored, because that's just sad."

"I'm fine with it." I argue, settling back into my previous position and looking at the ceiling.

"Seriously? You've been lying in that same spot since we got back from supper."

"That's not true. I had a shower and then laid down." I counter.

"Perfect, you're all ready to go then."

Despite myself, I smile in amusement and I I'm glad he's not here to see it. "I still have my pyjamas on. And so do you."

"So? People go out in public with pyjamas on all the time." I hear his footsteps coming back down the hall, but they seem louder now.

"People go to _Walmart_ with pyjamas on." I say anyway. "Which hardly qualifies as a public-" My sentence stops short when John comes around the corner with his arms full of winter clothes. _My_ winter clothes. "What-"

"Here." He tosses my coat at me. Due to my position, I can't stop it from landing on my face. It's quickly followed by two more things which I find out are my gloves when I uncover myself. For a second I'm scared he might chuck my boots too, but he just lays them on the floor by the side of the couch. He walks back down the hall, I assume to get his own stuff.

I don't make a move to get up, instead, raising my voice so he can hear me during his retreat. "If I recall correctly, I did not agree to leaving this place tonight." I call. All I hear is scuffling as he gets his stuff on. "And I also recall that you agreed to let me sleep." I try again.

"And if you were sleeping, we wouldn't be having a problem right now." He calls back. "If you haven't noticed, you're awake."

I wait with a raised eyebrow for him to continue, but he doesn't say anything more. "Which means...?" I prompt.

"Which _means_ , you can't be bored while you're on _vacation_." There's more rustling and he must know I'm not moving because he calls, "Now, don't make me come in there!"

Even knowing he wouldn't dare do anything that makes my progress remotely urgent, I sit up anyway. I put my feet in my boots, grabbing my gloves that fell to the floor as I stand up. I follow John's path down the hall, folding my coat over my arm instead of putting it on

John is zippering up his coat as I come down the hall, eyebrows shooting up in surprise. "That actually worked?" He chuckles. He grabs something off the shelf and tosses it to me. "Don't forget a hat."

I catch it with one hand and immediately give it an underhand throw back, never breaking stride. "I'm not wearing a hat."

He catches it and gives me a look. "You'll catch a cold." He warns. I shrug as a walk past him and he relents, putting it back on the shelf. He watches me as I hang my jacket back on the hook. "At least put on your coat." He tries as I open the door. I don't say anything, just pushing my hands into the pocket of my hoodie as I step outside, humming a little. I hear him breath out a tired sigh as I start down the steps. "You're something else, Elizabeth." He mutters.

He comes outside a moment later, and I notice how he's zippering up a hoodie instead, apparently having discarded the heavy jacket. He gives me a pointed look and I have to laugh at how proud he is that he managed to match my rebellion. Although he kept his hat on.

It's a calm night. Cold, yes, but that's to be expected. Aside from that, light snow has started to fall, smattering the cars and the slushy parking lot in a thin coat of white. There's hardly any wind, so no sound can be heard aside from our footsteps, left visible in our wake. It seems weirdly fitting that since we are the only thing disturbing the silence, our mark would be left in both sound and sight. We don't exactly make fast work getting to the lodge. After all, we have nothing to rush for.

"It's cold." John says eventually.

"It's winter." I reply. "And nighttime."

He rolls his eyes. "Thanks, I haven't noticed."

I shrug. "Not surprising."

"Hey." He looks down at me and I fail to hide a smile at the warning tone in his voice. I get a soft push the the shoulder for that, making me step a foot away from him before coming right back.

"You better watch out. I might slip and then you'll have a lawsuit on your hands."

"More like the resort will have a lawsuit on their hands for not properly clearing the parking lot. There wouldn't be any consequences for me."

I raise my eyebrows as I consider it. "Okay, fair point." I admit, shrugging. "Unless I decide to press charges for assault, and then boom, six months in prison."

John looks at me cautiously. "First of all, you've thought about this too much. Second... did you actually just use the word _boom_ to make a point?" That gets him a push to the shoulder, although it barely seems to affect him. Suddenly he stops and tilts his head to the side slightly, his eyebrows furrowing. "Do you hear music?" He asks.

I stop walking and listen. Sure enough, there's a faint steady beat coming from across the parking lot. "Must be in the lodge." I conclude, continuing on. "Maybe Stanley persuaded them to start the party early."

John laughs and quickly catches up to me. "He'll be partying by himself then. I'm too tired."

"Of course."

John looks down so fast I take a step away from him to avoid another push. He raises his eyebrows at me warningly, but I can tell he's anything but serious. "Come on, you're tired too. At least I'm not being all dramatic about it." He sends me a smirk and now I'm the one with the offended look.

"I'm not being dramatic about it." I argue.

"Right, Miss ' _I'm going to go back to the room and die_ '."

"I was joking." I defend hastily.

"You laid on the couch for two whole hours."

"Well, I... uh..." I keep my mouth open, ready for words to come out, but my mind draws a momentary blank. It's only a short pause but it's long enough for John to point a triumphant finger at me.

"Ha! Hesitation. You are _so_ tired."

"I'm not tired."

"You might even be more tired than me."

"Don't get ahead of yourself." I mutter, though I'd be lying if I said his excitement isn't at least a little amusing. I hear him chuckle and decide its best to let the conversation go now that there's no way for me to win. I squint ahead at the lights of the lodge and notice the music has gotten clearer since I last paid attention. "Jesus, how far away is it?" I complain.

"Calm down, we're almost there, Drama Queen." John teases.

I don't say a word, but begin the walk faster, hearing him laugh from behind me before he picks up his speed too. We really aren't that far away though, and it doesn't even take us another minute to reach the wooden bridge that leads to the door and goes around the whole lodge. Although I believe it turns into an ground level patio on one side. The music is clear now, but not very loud as it plays through some crappy speakers perched outside. I plan to walk through the main doors, but John starts walking up the bridge so I stop and sigh.

"Where are you going?"

"Mr. Byrne said that the service desk for the villa is through the doors on the side of the building." He explains, not commenting on my complaint.

"Can't we just get to it from inside the building?" I point out. He shrugs, looking around while slowly walking backwards.

"It's a nice night." He says simply, smiling a little.

I look at the doors for a moment before deciding that I wouldn't know where to go without him leading me anyway, so I start to follow him. His smile widens and he turns again so he can walk forward instead.

The music fades a little as we turn around the corner, but as we near the other set of doors, there's speakers again. I can see why. This area is directly below the ski hill, and the large wooden patio we're standing on has a path worn through its paint from heavy foot traffic. The ski racks a few metres away only have a couple sets of skis and a snowboard on them, and beyond them the mountain stands tall, almost seeming bigger than the sky. Little dots of light are peppered around parts of the hill, decorating the trails with a white glow. It looks nice. Beautiful actually. I'm suddenly glad John dragged me out here, because I know that seeing this is worth whatever movie I'll be forced to watch.

"This doesn't seem like the right place." John says, startling me out of my thoughts, though I don't look away from the hill. "Maybe he meant the other side of the building." He continues sheepishly.

"Probably." I reply distractedly. After all, an area where people are constantly flowing in and out for reasons other than checking in is probably not the best place for a hotel check-in counter. I nod and regretfully start to turn around. John is looking at the mountain too, so I smile. "Nice, isn't it?"

His eyes dart to me and he doesn't smile back, only nodding as his gaze returns to the sight in front of him. "Beautiful." He agrees.

My breath fogs in front of me as I sigh. "Well, we should probably go look for that service desk." I begin to walk back in the direction we came, noticing after a few steps that he's not following. I turn around and look at John questioningly as he stays put with a smile, and it's the kind of smile that makes the corner of my mouth pull up too. "What?" I ask.

He shrugs. "We should dance."

My eyebrows shoot up and I let out a surprised chuckle. "What?"

"We should dance." He repeats. His eyes dart to the speakers on the walls, reminding me that there's music playing. "If you want." He adds.

I consider it. I really do. And I don't know if it's the peacefulness of the night, or the soft sound filtering through the speakers that makes me want to. But I shake my head. "I don't dance."

"Sure you do." He replies.

"Seriously, do I look like the type of person that dances, John?"

"You can do everything else." He points out. "Why not this?"

There's that question again. _Why not?_ It's a good question, and I'm not sure I have valid answer except this weird feeling in my stomach that tells me not to. But it's also the same feeling that makes me want to take up his offer.

He must know I'm considering because his smile stretches into that familiar, kind expression that makes his eyes just that little bit more blue. "Come on. It's my favourite song."

My lips press together and I look into his eyes, nearly shining with a shy hopefulness. I don't recognize the song he claims is his favourite, but it's slow and gentle and everything I usually don't like in a song. But it's _his_ favourite.

My breath almost whistles through my teeth as I make up my mind, walking forward. Despite his smile, he still looks surprised and it takes him a minute to stretch his hand out in a quick motion.

"You're not wearing any gloves." I comment. It's a stupid thing to say, especially when there's so many other things I could pay attention to that don't involve his bare hands. But some part of me wants to keep this casual, even if another part of me knows it shouldn't be casual at all.

"Neither are you." He counters, and I suddenly wish I hadn't been so stubborn. But then his warm hand closes around mine, and my regret disappears. "And I don't need them." He guides me in front of him and I put my other hand on his shoulder. His comes to rest near the small of my back a moment later.

"So, what do we do now?" I ask stupidly. "Just.. sway or something?"

He chuckles, the vibration from the sound easy to feel on my palm. He starts rocking back and forth in answer, gently bringing me into his slow movement. "We'll save the hard moves for later."

I imagine he has that teasing smile on his face, but I can't tell because I'm looking down. I see both pairs of our feet moving, his a little more relaxed than mine. But then I realize looking down might be weird, so I force my eyes upward so they land on anything else. But my eyes focus on his chest for some reason, which I think is weirder than looking down. So I look up until a pair of dark blue eyes stops my searching. He gives me a small grin that's between shy and reassuring, and I'm not sure which one I should believe.

I raise my eyebrows, serious. "If you tell anyone about this, I will deny it and you will look like a liar." I threaten.

"Noted." He replies.

As I watch his eyes shift to look at something behind me, I realize we're really not that close together. He a respectful distance away, but not too far that it's uncomfortable and not too close that it's weird. There's at least seven inches between us, so why does my heart pound like the space is nonexistent?

We're going in a slow circle, so I get a view of the mountain once again over his shoulder. It's still beautiful, and I find myself focusing more on that. But then it's gone as we turn and I have nowhere else to look except the wooden siding of the lodge, which does nothing to distract my mind from what I'm doing.

Because I was right earlier. I don't like slow songs. I don't do anything I don't want to do, and I certainly _don't_ dance. But that can't be right because here I am, holding someone else's hand, swaying back and forth in the freezing cold, all because _he_ asked me to. And then I realize that I didn't really _not_ want to do this at all, and it's not because of the music, or peacefulness, or even the hopefulness in his voice when he asked. I wanted to do it because it's his favourite song. I wanted to do it because he's the one who asked.

I look at him once again and find that we're closer than we were before. Maybe only by an inch or two, but I still notice. I vaguely wonder if it was him or me who shortened the space between us, but then I decide it doesn't matter.

The mountain comes into view over his shoulder again, but this time I look at him, his face illuminated by the warm light coming from the lodge windows. He's looking at me, but he doesn't smile this time, he just looks. I wonder if he's thinking what I'm thinking; that something feels different. And it's not just his eyes or the music or the dancing. Because we've been close before. We've walked side by side, we've squeezed together against the back wall of the gym and he's held my hand on a bench in an ice rink. This isn't even the closest we've ever been to each other. It shouldn't be anything new, except it is.

His eyes look into mine and are we even closer now? While the distance between us was so clear before, I now find it hard to tell.

A snowflake drifts between us and I watch it land on the front of his sweater and melt into the fabric. For some reason it makes my mind clear, because I had almost forgotten we weren't alone. I remember that we're outside, right in the viewing area for anyone inside who cared enough to look out.

I try not to smile as I imagine it, but I must fail because John's eyebrows tug in slightly, the corners of his mouth lifting in confused amusement. "What?" He asks, a soft laugh threaded through his question. It makes my smile wider and I look down, shaking my head.

"Nothing, it's just that we're out here dancing to this stupid song in twenty below zero, and we're wearing _pyjamas_." I chuckle, a little embarrassed I ruined whatever moment we were having.

"Well maybe if somebody didn't strike up a campaign against wearing a coat, this wouldn't be a problem." John says chidingly, but breaks into a grin when I laugh.

"I'm not saying it's a problem." I defend. I'm unable to keep the smile from my face as we continue stepping back and forth. "I'm just saying it looks weird."

"I happen to think we look great together." He argues, not seeming to think about his words even after he says them, because I know the sheepish smile he would wear if it sunk in. "Even in pyjamas." He adds.

I raise an eyebrow. "You're wearing plaid."

His head nearly touches mine when he looks down at his pants. "So?"

"You're bringing our style points down, like, twenty percent."

A laugh breaks through his offended ruse, and he raises his eyebrows. "What's wrong with plaid?" He demands, his voice serious now despite his grin.

"At least it's not as bad as the hat."

"There's nothing wrong with my hat. Now you're just being mean." He huffs.

I laugh and he shakes his head, both of us falling into comfortable silence. We stay like that for a minute, bits of ice on the deck crunching under our boots as we step in time with the song. Both of our breaths fog in the quiet air.

"This is kind of boring after a while." I state eventually. At first I'm a little worried I've offended him, but he just laughs.

"Leave it you to ruin a moment." He teases. I'm about to defend myself but he just smirks and keeps talking. "But we have to keep going. The song isn't even over."

"I'm sure the song won't be offended."

He looks aghast. "You can't just stop dancing halfway through a song, Maren. It's a rule." And we don't, our movement going on uninterrupted in the background of our argument.

"Well it's a rule I've never heard of."

"You've also never danced." He points out, smiling teasingly. "Well, not that _you_ can remember." He takes his hand from my back and makes a drinking gesture. I glare at him and squeeze his shoulder hard, stopping when he grins and returns his hand.

"Are you ever going to let that go?" I sigh.

"Hey, you insulted my outfit." He defends. "I had to do something."

"I didn't know you took so much care in your outfits."

"One of us has to. I mean, you're wearing... like, what..." He looks down at my hoodie and the jogging pants pooled at the top of my boots, but apparently can't find anything wrong.

"You're not going to win this fight." I warn. I look him in the eye, deadly serious. "Plaid, John."

"Oh, shut it about the plaid." He complains, rolling his eyes. The laugh I was barely containing breaks out and he scoffs. "You know, it takes a certain type of person to rock plaid." He waggles his eyebrows and I raise mine in challenge.

"Are you implying that you're in that category?"

"Obviously. Do you not agree, Maren?"

"Do you really want the answer to that question?"

He narrows his eyes at me, his way of telling me he doesn't have a retort, and I try to keep my expression flat. This type of stare-down actually happens a lot between us, and it always ends with him breaking into a smile. Only tonight, for the first time ever, I'm the one to crack first. I press my lips together to try and hide it, but I feel the corner of my mouth pull up anyway. I watch his eyes widen as he notices and I look down as a victory grin breaks out on his face.

"Oh my God, did I just win?" He laughs. I make a low noise in the back of my throat, closing my eyes and trying just to pay attention to the swaying movement. "Wow, I defeated Maren Elizabeth at the serious game. Please tell me this is some type of record."

The tiny smile I had is gone when I look back up, my eyebrows raised in fond annoyance. He takes one look at my expression and laughs again, and it's hard because seeing his grin automatically makes me happy, which isn't what I want right now. I focus on our stepping again until noticing we're not even dancing in time with the music anymore, and we've just been keeping up the same slow sway to an entirely different song. Wait, a _different_ song.

"The song is over." I state. While I would honestly be content doing this for another song length, I don't think my mind can handle another load of confused feelings for the night, so I let go of his hand and step away.

John wrinkles his nose at my retreat. "Sore loser." He accuses.

I roll my eyes and start backing up toward the direction we came from. "Let's go get your stupid movie." I turn as he jogs to catch up to me, smirking as though reminding me that I'm going to be watching this stupid movie too. I don't pay attention to his expression and just turn the corner of the wooden bridge, the music fading slightly. "Oh, by the way, what's that name of that song?" I ask.

John's eyebrows furrow. "What song?"

"Um, the one we just danced to?" I laugh a little. "You said it was your favourite."

Understanding dawns on his features, but he clears his throat. "Yeah, uh... I can't, like, remember the name of it right now." He scratches the back of his neck and shrugs, suddenly looking down.

I sigh as it sinks in. "That wasn't your favourite song, was it?"

"Never heard of it in my life." He admits. He smiles innocently and I roll my eyes, although a little embarrassed that he knew exactly what to say to get me to agree to do something I wanted no part of.

"You lied to me." I accuse jokingly. "I don't think I can ever trust you again."

He just smiles. "Worth it."

 **Joseph**

The van rumbles to a stop in front of the ice rink, shutting down with a slight gurgling noise when I turn the key. I try not to be concerned about the unhealthy noises of the vehicle and instead look at the clock, where it shows that it took six minutes to drive here.

"Okay, so maybe that would have been a pretty long walk." I admit. Marina nods, probably imagining how hard it would be to walk around the snowbanks on the side of the road. I look outside as a few snowflakes land on the windshield of the van, and I'm suddenly very glad I'm sitting in the car. "I don't really want to get out. It's too warm in here."

Marina chuckles. "Don't worry, I'm sure it'll be warm in the rink." She says sarcastically.

I think about my stupid date choice and nod. "Is it too late to change our plans and go to a nice restaurant or... somewhere _heated_?"

"We already ate." Marina replies.

"We could eat again." I suggest. "It's better than freezing to death."

A beat of silence passes as I stare out the windshield in regret. I look over at Marina to see if she agrees with me, but she just smiles when she catches my eye, defiantly pushing open her door. The cold air rushes in as she steps out and I hurriedly undo my seat belt.

"So that's how it's going to be? Fine." I hear her laugh before she closes her door, and I push mine open a moment later.

I rush to catch up to her and dodge the few cars already in the lot, running past her and waiting by the rink with the door open. I see her make a visible effort to get to the door faster, thanking me as she goes through. Even though it's still cold, I feel immediate relief once I step inside, the still air better than the breeze outside. Marina talks to the skate rental guy but I refuse to let her pay for it, and soon we're sitting in the change room, her tying up her skates and me staring at mine in confusion.

"You can do it." She encourages from where she's bent over her own skates. She knows I'm struggling without even having to look up. "Just like tying up sneakers."

I nod. We went on a few more lessons after the first one so I should really know how to do this by now anyway. I grab the laces and give it a try, quickly finding out how simple it actually is.

"Wow, it looks so much more complicated until you actually try it." I chuckle. "I can't believe I got you to tie them for me all this time."

She huffs out a laugh. "Me neither."

I bump her shoulder in mock offence. "Don't judge me."

"I'm not."

Now finished tying her own skates, she kneels on the floor to work on my other one since I'm taking twice as long. "See? It's in these moments that I'm assured that you actually like me."

"Well, why else would I keep you around?" She questions, playing along.

"My looks obviously." I joke. She finishes tying the skate with a tug and looks up, smiling gracefully when I waggle my eyebrows.

"Trust me, Joseph. If I just kept you around for your ability to tie up skates, you would be long gone."

My eyebrows furrow. "Was that supposed to be an insult or a compliment?" I ask but she quickly leans forward and pecks my lips before I can think about it anymore, patting my knee before she stands up.

I grin and follow her out of the change room as quickly as I can manage with the skates on my feet. I link my hand with hers as we walk to the door of the rink, refraining from swinging them back and forth due to my focus on my balance.

"You know, I'm really glad I know how to skate now, because now we can be that cute couple that holds hands as they go around the skating rink." I say with a proud smile.

Marina looks up with a really cute expression that I can't place. My best guess would be that it's between amusement and confusion. She shakes her head, the expression falling with a chuckle. "Your goals in life never cease to impress me."

I narrow my eyes at her but she's not looking, instead pulling up the lever on the rink door. "What's that supposed to mean?"

My question gets her attention and she finally looks up seeing my expression. But then she just smiles and shakes her head. "Nothing." She pecks my lips again and steps onto the ice, leaving me with a stupid grin.

"Wait!" I call, realizing what she did. "You can't just keep doing that when I ask a question you don't what to answer."

I watch her turn in a smooth circle before giving me an casual shrug with a teasing expression. And then in that simple movement, my mind just has to stop and appreciate everything for a second. Her in her sweater and jeans, looking at me under a wool hat with that little smile that tells me that it's not just me doing the teasing anymore. And I can't even be mad that she's using my own tricks against me, because she just looks so damn good doing it.

"Are you going to come out?" She asks after I've been looking for a little too long.

"Of course." I nod determinedly and stare down at the slippery surface. Despite actually being decent at skating now, the process of getting on the ice is always a gamble. "I can't leave you out there alone. You might fall without my help."

She hums in sarcastic agreement before coming to the edge of the ice and holding out her hands for me to take. I'm immediately grateful and step onto the ice with little complications thanks to her help. It's pretty easy going once we actually get moving, although I still can't skate anywhere close to her level. My jerky pushes look terribly awkward compared to her fluid glides, but she goes slow and holding her hand does wonders for my balance.

"You should do a trick." I suggest after a while. She sighs, obviously knowing the question was coming but not excited about it.

"Do you need to ask that every time?"

"Yes I do. Because I need to see my awesome girlfriend be awesome." I explain, grinning when she smiles despite herself.

"You know, just because I was in figure skating doesn't mean I was good." She points out with a wry smile.

"You're right." I agree. She looks surprised for a moment that I gave in that easily, but... I didn't. "The best scoring figure skater in the province can't merely be described as good. How about spectacular, astounding, remarkable-"

I stop listing off words as she stops in shock, letting go of my hand and causing me to turn around. She's completely shocked, eyebrows raised and confusion written all over her face. I copy the expression as best I can and she wipes it from her face in an instant, making me grin.

"How did you know?" She asks finally.

"Well, Marina of the Sea, the internet is a marvellous place."

"So you searched me up on the internet." It's not a question so much as a statement. "That's a little creepy." She teases.

"Don't try to distract me, it won't work this time." I chide, my smile going from cocky to soft quickly when she stuffs her hands in her pockets, her face turning a little red as she avoids my eyes. "And it's not creepy. All I had to do was search up your name and everything came up."

"Didn't know I was that popular." She chuckles, but it's without humour. She has know _exactly_ what happens when you put her name in Google.

"One of the top runners for national finals tends to get someone noticed." I say seriously. She sighs softly through her nose and looks down. "You had the second best provincial score out of everyone in the country." I remind her, not mentioning the part of the article I read that stated the first place provincial champion gave away her position in nationals because of a family issue. "You're amazing, Mar. why didn't you tell me?"

She finally looks up at me, her lips pressed together. She holds up her hands in a fleeting gesture of uncertainty before crossing them in front of her. "I don't know, Joseph. It's not really something you talk about."

"Well, you should." I argue. "I mean, I already knew you were awesome, but I didn't know you were a number one result on Google awesome." I complain jokingly. The corner of her mouth pulls up but I pretend to be serious. "No, this is a problem, Marina. I was going around with you for five months thinking I was only a little out of your league, but now I know I'm not even in the same division. This is embarrassing." She finally chuckles and I grin. "And did I mention you're awesome?"

"A couple times, yes." She shakes her head but thankfully she's not embarrassed anymore.

"Look, I know why you didn't continue with it, you don't need to explain it to me." I say. I'm actually not completely certain on it, but I have a feeling the 'family issues' the article referred to had something to do with her Dad. "And I'm not trying to make you regret stopping. I just think it's a shame to have that much talent and not even realize it's still there."

She seems to contemplate that for a moment before looking up with a soft smile. "Since when did you become Mr. Inspirational?"

"Oh, I was born this way, baby." I smirk and she rolls her eyes, laughing anyway. "It's just easier when there's something worthy of inspiration."

"Well, consider me inspired then." She says. "I'm still not going to go put on a show or something."

"Why not?"

"Because there's like, _people_ here."

"There was like a thousand people watching you in competition." I point out. "And several cameras."

Her eyebrows shoot up. "Cameras?"

She seems genuinely shocked and it probably doesn't help that I chuckle. "I guess you haven't searched yourself up on YouTube."

"No, I haven't." She sighs. I continue to grin at her but she just presses her lips together.

"What?" I ask.

"You're creepy."

"You're _mean_." I counter childishly. She laughs and I'm glad she's joking about the creepy part. "Maybe if you weren't so vague about your accomplishments I wouldn't have to search you up on various... internet uh..."

"Platforms?"

"Yeah!" I snap my fingers as she gets it and she shakes her head, taking my hand and skating ahead again, probably to end the conversation. I really do consider leaving the topic alone, but every time I feel her hand shift in mine I'm reminded of the slow pace I'm restricting her to when she's capable of so much more.

"Teach me."

I'm not sure where the words come from, but they're out of my mouth now and they can't go back. The only thing I can think to do while Marina stares at me in confusion is to act like I know exactly what I said and why I said it.

"Teach you... what?" She chuckles.

"How to figure skate."

Her eyebrows shoot up and she actually stops moving, pulling me to a stop too. Our joined hands stay between us and stares at me like I'm mad. It's a valid reaction considering I'm also wondering where the idea came from.

She clears her throat, seeming lost. "Well... Joseph, it's more complicated than-"

"Just one trick then." I interrupt, because whatever, if I'm digging a hole for myself I might as well look like I'm doing it confidently. "Or like, a move or something." I add quickly.

"You're joking."

I chuckle lowly, still trying to come to terms with my own idea. "Unfortunately, I'm one hundred percent serious."

Her eyebrows furrow. I guess she's opting for confusion now after giving up on surprise. "Why?"

"Well... I mean- uh..." I wave my free hand as though the answers will pop out of the air. "I guess I just think it's cool, and... yeah." I nod because it's true, I just wish that would be the end of it.

"Joseph, you barely know how to skate, let alone-"

"I though you said I was getting better?"

"Yes, you are much better than when you _started_ , but..." she looks up at me and I grin reassuringly even though I'm not sure why. If anyone could use some assurance right now it would be me, not her. She sighs, but after a moment she looks down at my feet and then back up, arching an eyebrow.

"Well, you're going to need a different pair of skates."

 **John**

Getting Maren to pick a movie is like pulling teeth. She's difficult and stubborn and picky and defiant against anything I suggest. It probably doesn't help that almost all of the movies available are either family friendly (I have a feeling she's more of a Jason Bourne kind of girl), or animated, which is obviously not an option for her. Whenever I suggest anything that remotely strays from her taste, her face screws up and she just shakes her head, sometimes giving a reason, most times remaining silent. I let out a sigh every time I see her make _the face_ but inside I'm not annoyed at all, because I'll be damned if it isn't endearing.

"Okay, this one?" I hold up a movie that I don't think is too bad, watching with a little bit of hope when Maren doesn't immediately shoot it down.

"'We Bought a Zoo'? That's one of Marina's favourite movies." She says. At my hopeful look, she shakes her head. "No."

"Oh come on." I complain dramatically, making her smile a little at my annoyance. "I know it's not action but it's a good movie, trust me."

"First of all, it's an alright movie at best. Second, I've seen it before."

I roll my eyes as I put it back, starting my desperate search through the shelves again. "So? You've never watched a movie more than once?" I huff.

"Nope."

My head snaps toward her at her reply, waiting for her to smirk and tell me it was 'something called sarcasm'. But she just keeps looking at the movies, and I realize she was serious.

"Really?"

Her eyes dart to me almost cautiously. "Um, yeah?"

I still continue to look at her disbelievingly until she sighs and raises her eyebrows, telling me to voice whatever I was holding in. I shake my head. "You're so weird."

Unsurprisingly, an eye roll from her meets my statement. "Why would I watch something again when I already know how it ends?" She counters, focusing back on the shelves.

"Because maybe it's a good movie and you want to enjoy it again?" I suggest. I still look at her even though she's not paying attention to me. She picks through the movie cases uninterestedly, like even she's given up on finding one.

"Well most movies are terrible anyway." She sighs distractedly as she pulls a case from the shelf, looking on the back to read it. "Too predictable."

"You obviously haven't been watching the right movies." I reply. I watch as she puts the movie back almost as soon as she picked it up, and decide to resume my own search, kneeling down to see the contents of the bottom shelf. "I bet I can find a movie you'll like."

"Go for it." She encourages flatly.

"Fine, I will." I reply smugly, somehow feeling the effort in my search go up tenfold now that I've been presented with a challenge.

I pick through the cases one by one, only looking at the movies I've already seen so I can deem if they're worthy enough. I skip past any sappy romances or stupid comedies, knowing she's probably not one for that kind of thing. The sad part is that aside from rom-coms and animated films, the selection is pretty limited. I end up picking three finalists and presenting them to her. She arches an eyebrow as I read them out.

"Okay, so I've got Pirates of the Caribbean, Click, and Marley and Me." I hand them to her and she chuckles.

" _Marley and Me_? Really?"

"Yes, really. It's a great movie." I argue.

"It's stupid. There's a dog on the cover."

"But it's a _really_ cute dog." I insist. "Plus, you can't judge it by its cover. It's like, a rule."

"I'm not judging it by its cover, I _literally_ know-"

"Not another word out of you." I hold up a hand, stopping her complaints. She stops with her mouth half open, looking slightly annoyed because I would assume she doesn't get interrupted often. "I'm gonna go see about something at the counter. When I come back, you have to choose one of those. And by the way, I would strongly suggest _Marley and Me_. I really think you'll like it."

Maren rolls her eyes as I turn to walk away, but I can tell she's actually putting effort into choosing one. I head over to the desk and the woman greets me with a smile.

"Hey, How much are those movies?" I ask, pointing a thumb back at the shelves.

"They're free as long as you return them by the end of your stay." She says brightly.

"Really? Cool." I nod in surprise and she just smiles a classic customer service smile, displaying she's been asked about this far too much. "Oh and one more question. Do you know if there's anywhere around here where I can find some popcorn?"

The woman tells me where to go and I thank her, heading back over to Maren, who looks like she's decided.

"Do we have a winner?" I ask. She sighs and almost regretfully holds up a movie case, her choice making my eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Wow. I really didn't expect _Marley and Me_ to actually be a contender." I take the other two back from her and put them back in there places.

Maren shrugs. "Well, you obviously wanted to watch it so..."

"Since when do you do things on my account?" I tease.

"Since now I guess." She looks down, examining the back of the DVD case. I smile at her admission and bring her in the direction the employee told me to go. "Where are you taking me now?" She complains dramatically, but I just look back at her and her fake sour attitude with a grin.

"Apparently the cafeteria still sells stuff at night." I explain. "Nothing cooked, but like, candy and drinks and stuff."

"Why are we getting candy and drinks and stuff?"

"We're not." I reply. She looks confused. "Well, you can get a drink if you want, but they also sell popcorn."

Maren draws a conclusion right away, raising her eyebrows in that decisive way she does when she knows something. "You heard me talking to Joseph."

"Not everything is about you, Maren. I, for one, am going to the cafeteria for one reason and one reason only..." I pause dramatically and force my voice to be sincere. "I just _really_ like popcorn."

Maren rolls her eyes and shakes her head. Despite turning her head to try and hide it, I can still see a badly stifled smile fighting its way into her face.

"Whatever, John."

 **Joseph**

I look down at the decently worn white skates on my feet with a slanted mouth. I'm not sure how I feel about them yet. They're a bit narrower than the hockey skates and the laces looked a hell of a lot more complicated to tie up (thank God for Marina) even though they probably weren't. Not to mention the sinister looking spikes that protrude from the front curve of the blade and have nearly made me face plant about twenty three times since I put them on. Marina calls the devils 'toe picks'.

Despite all this, there's still an elegant and almost sleek look to the skate that it's hockey counterpart failed to possess. I look up from the devices on my feet and meet eyes with the girl across my from me, suddenly knowing exactly what opinion I have about the new skates.

"I feel emasculated."

Marin snorts at my grumpy statement, tilting her head and looking me up and down. "But you _look_ great."

"I know it might be hard for you but let's try to keep it professional, hm?"

She laughs. "Sorry. Of course, we'll keep this strictly professional." She nods seriously and I sigh as I shift my weight from one foot to the other, probably looking as awkward as I feel.

"Well, Miss professional... teach me something." I command with a vague hand gesture in her direction.

"With that tone? I might have to rethink it." She looks at me with raised eyebrows that are supposed to be chiding, but it turns into a grin when I make a threatening move toward her. She backs up effortlessly and I'm suddenly so in awe by the gracefulness of the move that I forget what I was pretending to be annoyed about.

"That." I state, nodding at her skates as she comes to a stop. Her eyebrows furrow and she tilts her head to the side slightly in question. It's a look I like to silently refer to as the 'confused puppy' expression. Not that I'd ever tell her that, because then she'd probably stop doing it. "Teach me how to do that." I clarify.

"What? Skate backwards?"

I nod and she appears to think about it for a moment. After a second of deliberation she must decide it's as good a place to start as any, and starts to tell me how. Honestly, she really isn't that great at explaining what she's doing, but I get that it's probably hard for her to describe something that just comes second nature. For her, trying to teach me to skate is probably as confusing as I would find teaching someone to breath, or how to move their arm or something. I learn most of it from looking at her as an example, and soon find out it's not just skating in reverse, it's an entirely new way of getting momentum and everything.

"Can you do an axel?" I ask her as I twist my feet back and forth like she seems to be doing, somehow it doesn't work for me.

She seems amused that I've obviously put some research in on the topic, but answers seriously anyway. "I used to be able to." She replies. It looks like she might say more but when she sees my terrible method, she chuckles and tells me what I'm doing wrong instead.

"Can you do a double axel?" I ask as I try to apply what she told me, and find it actually is working out better.

"I used to be able to." She repeats, even though I knew the answers to both questions because I watched the videos and saw her do precisely the mentioned tricks. "I don't think I would be able to now though because I was a lot stronger then." She points at my feet and tells me what to fix again.

"Can you do a triple axel?"

She chuckles and shakes her head, and something tells me I don't exactly know how hard a triple axel is. "I was working on it. But no, I've never done one." She admits. "Now come on, I want to see progress here." She gestures at my feet when she says the command jokingly, and I immediately focus again.

This time when I try what she told me, I actually move back a few feet, startling me into stopping myself. After a few more tries, I'm able to move backwards continuously (as awkward and slow as it may be).

"There you did it!" She beams at me and I'm sure she's more relieved over the fact that she can move on with something else. Seriously, it's a little alarming how much effort it takes me to complete one thing. A glance to the clock tells me there's fifteen minutes left until the rink closes, so if I'm lucky I'll be able to learn one more thing.

I turn to Marina. "I want to do an axel."

She lets out a short laugh, raising her eyebrows in a way that tells me she wants a serious suggestion. When I smile innocently, her amusement falls and surprise replaces it. "You're being serious."

"Yup."

"You do know what an axel is, right?" I give her a flat look and she puts her hands up. "Sorry, it's just... that's pretty impossible, Joseph."

"Well, it is if I don't have an example." I gesture out at the large open space of the rink, where the few people here circle close to the edge, leaving more than enough space for a certain trick to be preformed.

She sees what I'm getting at and gives me a look that says so. "Yeah, that's where I draw the line. I'm not doing any tricks until you have the proper skills to put in the effort."

She crosses her arms as though for emphasis, raising her eyebrows to communicate that she won't be swayed. And while I should probably be focused on finding reasons to change her mind, the only thought that runs through my brain is the question of how someone can command such an authority while wearing a white wool hat and mittens. I don't stay on the question for long though, because I feel something other than seriousness when I look at her. I'm not sure what is is, but something about the hardness of her gaze and the way she's so stuck in her opinion... Bossy Marina is -

"Got it?" She interrupts my thoughts, which is probably for the better.

"Totally." I nod a few too many times. "But maybe just a spin?" She sighs dramatically, which makes me grin because she doesn't immediately brush it off. "I mean, I've already seen you do it once so..."

She looks at me for a moment, the gears in her mind turning. "Fine." She says finally. In a pure moment of victory I lean down and kiss her. I think it might catch her a little by surprise because she makes a short sound that stops almost as on as it started, but she doesn't hesitate to respond. When I pull back, grinning, she smiles too. "But only if you do it first."

My mouth hangs open and she smirks as much as she's capable of, which just means a small tug at the corner of her lips. The expression is still enough to drive me crazy, and I can't stop a low noise in my throat. She retreats with a giggle at the threatening sound.

Needless to say, I stand no chance in catching her.

. . .

It's snowing harder than it was before when we get back. The slush in the parking lot is covered in a new blanket of white, and the snow piled on the wooden rails of the stairs have gained another few layers. Not that I mind. Seeing the snow drift down on a dark night almost makes this whole 'winter' thing worth the while.

We pull into a parking spot in front of the villa; the same one we pulled out of when we left actually. I make sure I get out before Marina this time so I can open the door for her, which she insists I don't need to do. She reminds me to lock the van on the way up the stairs, and soon we're at the door of our room.

"So, I've walked you home." I begin, nodding at the room number in confirmation while putting my hands in pockets. Marina looks at me questioningly. "I believe this is the part of the date where you tell me you had a good time tonight and then we kiss on the doorstep."

"Oh." She raises her eyebrows in consideration. She's trying to be serious but I don't miss the slightest tug at the corner of her mouth. "I didn't know there was a protocol."

"Of course there is, your Majesty. It's like, dating 101." I explain, trying to be just as serious but probably failing.

"Oh, okay." She nods in mock solemness, before focusing back on me, seeming to debate something.

Then she takes a step toward me, so close that she actually has to tilt her head to look up at me. I should probably be concerned about how my heart may have skipped a beat or two, but I can't because she right _there_ and she's _her_ and she doesn't usually initiate these kinds of moves.

She smiles and slides her hands in her pockets. "Well, Joseph. I had a good time tonight."

She statement makes my breath catch and I kind of just stare stupidly at her for a second. I try to chuckle but my breath comes out too quick. "Holy- wow, that was smooth."

She laughs, eyes staying on mine. "Just following protocol." Her shoulders lift in an innocent little shrug, and I'm done.

Fully convinced any words I try to say will just come out in an incoherent mess, I just let myself close the gap, savouring the way she meets me in the middle, like she's just as eager as I am. My hand comes out of my pocket to rest on her sweater beneath her unzipped coat. Without knowing it I pull her closer, but she doesn't seem to care, both of us melting into each other despite the cold air.

Thank God for protocol.

 **John**

Okay, maybe Marley and Me wasn't the best choice. Not because it sucks or anything, it's because it's too freaking good. I kind of remembered how sad this movie was but I never quite truly relived it like I'm doing now. I try to swallow a lump in my throat as Owen Wilson's character talks to Marley for the last time, and I fight the burning feeling in my eyes.

Fine, there's a possibility that I wanted this movie for the reason that it may just contain the most heartbreaking moment in cinematic history. There's a possibility that I was foolish enough to think that the movie might stir up some emotion in the stoic girl on the other side of the couch. And there's also a (very high) possibility that my entire plan backfired and I'm actually the one struggling to keep tears at bay instead of her.

In fact, as what must be the saddest moment in the history of film plays out on screen, Maren looks almost concerningly calm as she gazes at the screen. Her face betrays no emotion and her eyes don't leave the screen. I really shouldn't be surprised though. This is Maren badass Elizabeth we're talking about here. Of course she wouldn't cry over some dumb rom-com, even if the dog does die. John very-not-badass Smith might want to cry though. Just a little.

The only reason I make it through the scene with my face dry is the fact I've seen it before. Okay, I'm not usually the type of person that cries about a movie, but there's something about a dog dying that just makes everything in the world unfair. I can't help it.

"Well that sucks." Maren states flatly as the scene ends. She's curled up on the other side of the couch that we pulled directly in front of the TV. I just hum in agreement, not trusting my voice even after the sad moment ends. I shake my head as I wonder how someone can be so unemotional after something like that. It's not that I _wanted_ her to cry... I was just curious.

I continue to fester with this idea until the movie fades into credits after a relatively happy ending. After a beat of silence, I finally let out my frustration.

"Do you have a heart?"

Maren raises her eyebrows and shrugs as though she's actually considering the question. "Maybe."

She looks at me in what I can only describe as defiance and it takes a moment of grinding my teeth to make an angry gesture at the screen. "That was literally the saddest thing ever."

"Okay... and?"

"You don't have emotions." I huff.

She chuckles but decides better not to comment on it, taking her feet off the couch and grabbing her popcorn bowl off the floor, where she put it after she was done. She puts out her hand and gestures for me to pass mine to her so I do and she brings then to the sink.

"You know, the movie was probably more sad for you because you actually have a dog." She points out, laying the dishes in the sink and turning the water on. She smirks just a little. "Or at least that's what we'll tell everyone."

I pick up one of the pillows on the couch and fling it over the back at her. She watches with an unimpressed gaze as it lands several feet to the right of her. She looks at me and I fix her with a half-hearted glare.

"I didn't even cry."

"You were about to."

"How would _you_ know?"

"I could hear it in your voice."

"But I didn't say anything!"

"Yeah you did." At my confused expression, she presses her lips together and mocks my hum of agreement from earlier.

"That proves literally nothing." I argue. She does the hum again and I sigh. "Besides, I don't cry at sad movies. All the time."

"I bet you cried when you watched _Titanic_."

" _Titanic_? Really Maren? Who do you think I am?"

"What about _Hachi_?" She guesses.

My mouth shuts and she raises an eyebrow knowingly. "It was a sad movie!" I defend. She nods and hums again. "Stop that." I warn.

Her face breaks into a grin, and even though it's a little smug, it's still the kind of grin that makes me smile back unknowingly. Because Maren doesn't let everyone see her smile like that, except I've seen her do it more times than I can count. I don't know what that means but I think it's a good thing.

"What are going to do? Throw another pillow at the floor?" She challenges.

"Do not belittle me because of my aim. You caught me in a bad moment."

She rolls her eyes and switches off the tap, apparently leaving the dishes for another time or (much more likely) for Marina. She picks the pillow up off the floor and chucks in back at me, perfectly at head level. I quickly duck and it goes flying to the front of the living room.

"Okay, I would usually complain about that but there are more important matters to discuss..." she arches an eyebrow as she picks up the pillow, but she doesn't throw it at me this time, just sitting down with it. "How did you like the movie?"

Maren shrugs, putting her legs back up on the couch. "It wasn't terrible." She decides.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It was alright."

"Just alright?"

"Yes, _just_ alright."

My eyes narrow at the praise, trying to decide if I should push my luck with getting a better opinion out of her. "Was it alright enough for you to watch it twice?" I ask anyway.

"Probably not."

I sigh in disappointment because I thought it was a solid choice. Although there's already movies running through my head that I'm sure will win her favour if we ever do this again. "I still think you're weird." I state.

The random comment makes her chuckle, and her eyes have humour in them even though they're also showing how tired she is. I watch as she props an arm on the back cushion of the couch, resting the side of her head against her fist and looking at me with an almost lazy smile, like she's loosing the energy to even try to reign in her expressions anymore. "Is that all?" She drawls.

I roll my eyes, even though I'm kind of in awe of how relaxed she looks right now with her bed clothes and loose hair, strands of which drift down in front of slowly blinking eyes. She seems so comfortable that I doubt she even cares about how her posture isn't as perfect as normal, or about how her smile doesn't hold its usual confidence or smugness. It's just... there. The ends of her sweater sleeves are gripped in a loose hold, hiding her hands, and her hair is piled slightly higher on the side of her head she's resting on her fist. She seems completely uncoiled and I'm suddenly sure that tired Maren is one of my favourite versions of her.

"Well, yes. But you're _seriously_ weird." I continue with the conversation before I can get too lost. "I mean, really? You've never watched a movie twice? Not one?" I don't know if it's because her guard is down or if she just doesn't care, but she looks down for a moment in hesitation. I catch on immediately. "Ah ha! There is one isn't there?"

She lets out a breath through her nose and I'm already proud on the inside because I just know that she knows I can read her too well for her liking. "Well... yes, but-"

"What is it?" I interrupt.

Maren narrows her eyes as she decides wether or not to tell me. I raise my eyebrows expectantly and after a suspenseful amount of time, she relents with a sigh that's more dramatic than usual.

"It was _Frozen_." She admits. It takes a minute for me to comprehend it, but a smile slowly starts to spread on my face when it does.

"Seriously?" I laugh.

She rolls her eyes. "Yes, but before you get too excited, it's because I was babysitting Marina's little sister and she watched it on repeat. It was an accident that I watched it more than once."

"Ah, I see." I nod in understanding, the explanation making complete sense. I also find it kind of funny that our group's self-proclaimed badass would sacrifice her night and her stupid movie rule to watch an animated movie over and over just to make a kid happy. I'll never voice that opinion though in fear she'll just leave the conversation and finally get that sleep she refuses to admit she's craving. " _Frozen_ was a good movie though."

She gives the same response as earlier. "It was alright." Then her eyes narrow and a tiny smirk comes onto her face. "Why have you seen it?" She asks curiously.

"Joseph wanted to." I say quickly.

At least it's the truth. Joesph gets a little excited every time a new Disney movie comes out, and because he doesn't want to feel like a loser (and because I secretly like to keep up with what Disney is putting out), Stanley and I always join him to watch it. Although Stanley mostly just laughs about how unrealistic it is the entire time, to which inevitably sparks the 'its an animated movie!' argument that passive aggressively continues throughout the duration of the film. Somehow we get through them without anyone getting hurt. Usually.

"Oh, that explains it then." Maren says.

I chuckle. "Yeah, you should have seen him when Hans betrayed Anna. I still don't think think he's over it."

She laughs too, probably imagining an outraged and shocked Joseph getting overly connected to things as he so often does. "I saw it coming." She shrugs.

I shake my head even though I believe it. "How though? He was so nice." I argue.

"Exactly." She nods like her point is made, but continues after my confused look. "Nobody is that nice without having a reason to be. It's just not how the world works." She shakes her head and I instantly know that's how her mind works. It's a sad way to think, but I can only hope she sees me as one of the exceptions. "Plus, he has sideburns." She gives a visible shudder.

I snort at her reaction. "In that case, please remind me never to grow a set of sideburns."

Her eyebrows shoot up. "You really need a _reminder_?" She looks so horrified that I wouldn't be able to stop my laugh if I bothered to try. "Jesus, if you're actually _considering_ that then I think I need to take another look at continuing this relationship."

She tries to keep up the stoic facade for a moment before it breaks into a grin as I continue to laugh. I watch her progress as she tries not to laugh; she shakes her head, rolls her eyes, and then finally lets it out in a heavy breath she's been holding.

The moment feels so carefree that just for a second I think that I'll tell her. I'll let her know exactly what I'm thinking and be bold and ask her if she feels it too. But even as the thought goes through my mind, I know it won't happen like that. Not here, not that way. Because she's only just began to trust me enough to be like this around me, and I'm not going to ruin it by getting her to close up all over again. I suddenly know that if I ever tell her how I feel, it'll be by accident.

Suddenly the door opens, the laughing conversation of Marina and Joseph washing away our own as quickly as the cold air can rush through the opening. We both stifle our amusement and listen as Joseph calls a dramatic "Greetings, children". Maren rolls her eyes and I notice she's changed her position almost entirely, leaning her elbow on the armrest of the sofa so her back is straighter and her legs are tighter to her body. She still looks relaxed, but nowhere near her comfort level of before.

"How was skating?" I call, trying too hard to sound casual. But why does it suddenly feel like we're hiding something?

"Oh, it was great. I can skate backwards now!" He informs with obvious pride.

"Good for you." I hope the sentence doesn't sound too flat, but I suspect it does when Maren smirks. "Oh, and by the way, we went to the store and got some hot chcocolate while we were there. So-" I pause when I hear the heavy sound of boots rapidly coming down the hall. Joseph emerges, still fully dressed in his winter gear, staring wide eyed at me. "...it's in the cupboard." I finish, not knowing what to make of the look on his face.

"Dude, I love you." He says.

"Right, well please go back to the porch before the snow melts off your boots." I order, rolling my eyes.

He nods and grins, heading back down the hall. "I _love_ you!" He calls back.

"Thanks, Joe." I call back sarcastically. I hear a whoop down the hall quickly followed by the much calmer voice of Marina, who must be soothing his excitement.

I hear the words 'pyjamas' and 'sleep' and footsteps up the stairs. It's not hard to make out that exchange and Marina comes into the kitchen a moment later, not tracking water through the room like her boyfriend. She heads over to the kitchen and starts filling up the kettle, probably for hot chocolate, and I pick up the remote to turn off the TV.

"What movie did you guys watch?" Marina asks, so I hold off on pressing the power button so she can look at the screen. Her eyebrows furrow when she sees the title and she laughs a little. " _Marley and Me_? Maren, you hate that movie."

For a second, I think I've misheard her. After all, Maren told me literally minutes ago that she has only ever re-watched a movie once in her entire existence. This can't be true. But as Marina keeps fiddling with the kettle, I slowly turn to look at Maren to find her looking anywhere but me. In fact, she seems to be finding the fabric of the couch pretty intriguing at the moment, picking at the threads and offering no retort or denial. My eyebrows shoot up and I try to keep my chuckle quiet, but I know she heard when she glances up to throw a strangely weak glare in my direction. I grin and she rolls her eyes.

Remembering we we're having a conversation with Marina, I face her again and make up an excuse. "Yeah, I kind of made her watch it." I lie, even though it's a tiny bit of the truth. I _did_ make her choose a movie, but everyone knows that you can't make Maren do something she doesn't want to... ever.

"Well, it's a good movie." Marina defends for me.

"Yes it is." I agree. I give Maren a look. "I don't know how anyone could hate it." I accuse. She wrinkles her nose at me and I stuff down another laugh at her complete lack of any sort of defence other than that in the form of facial expressions.

Marina snorts and flicks a switch on the kettle before stepping back, apparently having gotten it to work. "She only hates it because she teared up the first time she watched it."

I can't stifle my surprise this time, my eyebrows shooting up. Marina nods at me as she walks to the hall and Maren protests immediately, apparently having found her voice. "I did not tear up! We've talked about this."

Marina disappears into the hall, shaking her head. "Well, you don't have allergies so..." she calls back. Maren glares in the direction she went, but if she's planning on saying anything, the sound of a door closing stops any more denials.

After Marina is gone, I slowly turn to Maren with a raised eyebrow, trying to decide which part of the conversation to address first. I have a feeling that by the bitter look she's throwing my way, I'm lucky she's still here instead of retreated back into the room. After a moment of silence and a calculated stare on my part, I finally speak.

"So, you've seen the movie before." I state matter-of-factly.

She rolls her eyes, annoyed about repeating the information I just heard. "Yes." She replies shortly. I watch her stretch her legs out across the couch, crossing them at the ankles near my own legs.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I decide to ask an actual question this time, afraid she'll actually get annoyed for real if I just keep stating what we both already know.

"I tried. You know, when I said I knew it was stupid, but then you went to find out about the popcorn so I didn't get the chance." She defends.

"Really? That's barely an effort." I scoff, both of us knowing that if she had something she _really_ wanted to say, she _really_ would have said it. I smirk a little, curious to see what her excuse will be for this one. "Why did you watch it again?"

I tilt my head to the side innocently and she lifts her eyes from the look, finding particular interest in the ceiling fan. I watch her expectantly as she leans her head against her hand again in a way that looks like fidgeting. She glances at me again like she's checking to see if I've moved on yet, but I raise my eyebrows at her, prompting for an explanation. She lets out a sigh and drops her gaze to the couch instead of looking at me.

"Well, you know..." she makes a gesture at me with her free hand, shaking her head. "You suggested it, and you seemed like you really wanted to watch it, and I didn't want to say no to something you were excited about." She finally looks up. I bet she knows her face is red because she presses her lips together, obviously uncomfortable admitting she did something for the sole purpose of making another person happy. "So yeah, I figured I'd watch your stupid movie with you... or whatever."

I only notice that a grin has worked its way onto my face after she stops talking. Maren can't be pleased about the expression but I can't help it. The girl who doesn't do anything she doesn't want to do just broke her stupid movie rule for me to watch a movie she doesn't even like in the first place, and she _knows_ it. She knows, and she's embarrassed.

"Awe, you're so sweet." I say finally. Then I roll my eyes, feigning nonchalance. "Or... whatever." I add in the same muttered way she said it, but I can't match her glare.

"Shut up."

"No, I honestly think it's very nice and-"

"I will _kick_ you, John."

I laugh and I hope she's not too irritated by me, but God the whole thing is pretty funny. Only she would be ashamed about doing something nice for someone. "And you cried the first time-"

"I did not cry. I teared up." She corrects hastily, unknowing that in her defence she actually admitted to tearing up. "There's a difference." She adds.

"Oh yeah?" I question. She keeps her eyes on me at the challenging tone. "What's the difference then?"

We have a staring match for a minute, my gaze teasing while hers looks like it could probably kill me multiple different ways. And because I've rarely seen her without a retort, I immediately deem it as her I-have-nothing-witty-to-respond-with-but-I'll-be-damned-if-I-won't-glare-you-into-submission face. It strikes me as quite a specific type of face, but she's also a specific type of person so I guess I'll let it slide.

"I'm going to bed." She decides finally.

"You do that." I smirk in victory as she stands up and makes a tight turn around the couch. "Try not to think about Marley. You might cry." I can't help but tease. She walks around the back of the couch and I quickly lean forward in fear a retaliation might come in the form of a fist. She just rolls her eyes at my fear, thankfully continuing to the room.

"It's sad when dogs die." She defends simply. "Oh, and by the way," she turns around smoothly, taking a few steps backwards so she can face me. She smirks. "It's still a stupid movie."

"Whatever you say." I grin. She narrows her eyes before smiling herself, turning and disappearing down the hall. "What, you don't want to stay for hot chocolate?" I call jokingly. It might just be me, but I swear I hear her laugh quietly from down the hall.

"Goodnight, John."

 **Stanley**

The mountain is nice at night. Yeah, sure, it's nice in the day too. But in the dark with warm light illuminating the trails and the falling snow and stuff, it looks _nice_. It's not like I didn't appreciate the view before, but it's a little hard to take it in when I'm focusing on other things. But when I'm stopped like I am now, I can finally look around me and notice what I've been ignoring on my way down.

I sit down in the snow, lodging my goggles on my hat as Riley appears next to me, seeming to sit before she even waits for herself to stop fully. She pulls down the fabric covering her mouth and lets out a breath that unfurls in front of her in a small cloud of fog.

"You know, I wasn't sure about the coat at first."

My random statement almost seems to ring in the quiet air, and I think for a moment that it's so silent my voice could probably be heard at the bottom of the hill. Riley takes her goggles from her eyes and lodges them on the front of her helmet, raising a questioning eyebrow.

"Like, it's really bright and I honestly wasn't sure you could pull off the whole... neon orange thing..." I shrug. "But against all odds, it actually looks alright."

Her eyebrows raise as she regards my comment. "Thanks for adding that 'against all odds' bit. I needed that." She rolls her eyes, although despite her natural variety of expressions, she can never seem to get the deadpan down. She's not smiling fully yet, but I know it won't take much more for the feigned offence to give way into a lopsided grin. It never does.

"Alright, fine. You're totally rocking the whole sexy traffic cone look. Happy?"

She hums, only one corner of her mouth lifting. "Sexy, huh? Even though I kind of resent the traffic cone comment, I can deal with where the other part is going."

It's me who breaks first when she says that, a grin taking up my face at her smooth response. She's not the type of person who thinks too hard about her words. How can she when her mind moves too fast for her to think about saying anything else than what's already on her mind? No, Riley is no smooth talker, but it's not the first time she's flirted back with me. It was about a month ago when she started actually carrying on with my comments instead of laughing them off. I'm not sure what changed, but I'm not complaining. I think we both know neither of us are serious (Okay, maybe I am a little, but she doesn't need to know that). It also makes me feel less like an ass about it if she's doing it back.

There's the sound of scraping snow behind us and we both turn to see a couple parents and a kid making their way down the hill. They pass us quickly and Riley chuckles.

"Maybe keep it G-rated though, there _are_ families around."

"Maybe we should go somewhere else then."

"You wish." She laughs.

I sigh, drawn out and heavy, and lean my elbows on my knees. "Yeah, Pierce. I really do." She rolls her eyes, bumping her shoulder against my arm, but she's grinning. I smile and look down the trail, recognizing it as close to the bottom. We sit in silence for a minute, letting the snow fall down in the tranquil air, as though the image needs a proper moment to be processed. "You know what I think?" I say eventually.

She feigns a gasp. "When did you start _thinking_?"

I give her a look but it's hard not to smile when she laughs at my serious expression, and she does that thing where she scrunches up her nose for just a second in the beginning, making her seem so innocent.

"Shut up." I tell her eventually, looking away because I can't just look at her eyes and not be happy. "I was about to say that I think I can race you to the bottom." I state.

She lets out a hum of thought, watching me out of the corner of her eyes like I'm watching her. "Bold claim."

"I'm a bold guy."

She snorts, the coy act gone as quickly as it came. "Yeah, I know." She shakes her head as I smirk in appreciation. "I wouldn't be so sure you'd win though."

"Why? Because you're more aerodynamic?" I guess. She actually looks offended and my smug smile widens.

"No. Because I'm better." She corrects.

"Well, I guess we'll just have to see about that."

I push myself up and dust the snow off my gloves before reaching a hand down to help Riley up. Despite the competitive mood now between us, she's not stubborn enough to ignore it, letting me pull her up. She's lighter than I expected but I don't comment on it, deciding that one joke about her size is enough for now. She pulls the neck warmer up over her mouth and we both put our goggles on at the same time.

"Ready?" I ask.

"Are you?"

"Pierce, I'm alway ready for every- Hey! You can't just get a head start while I'm talking!"

I rush to catch up to her, hearing her laugh even as I'm still behind her. To her credit, she does wait until we're side-by-side to actually begin to pick up much speed. And as soon as that happens we're both off.

It actually doesn't take long for Riley to take the lead, my jab about her size actually turning out to be true, which I'm surprised about but she probably knew anyway. I don't know if it's because she wants to make it fair or not, but she does a little bit more of a zig zag pattern than me, making our speeds pretty even. I mostly gain ground on the turns. I've noticed she takes them wide, so I try to make them as tight as possible even if it is slightly dangerous.

From behind her, I can affirm what I said earlier about her jacket looking nice. It's not even too bright when it's dark out, and even in the day it goes with her black snow pants nicely (which Maren claimed is miracle considering she picked out the snow pants herself too). It all seems a tad loose on her, but a lot of her clothes seems to be that way anyway so it suits her. It's not all the clothes that make her look good though, it's also the confident way she speeds down the hill. I was surprised by it at first, because she's usually so uncoordinated, but then I figured that it's probably not a coincidence that she excels at something where her feet are literally strapped together.

Suddenly I notice that we're close to the bottom of the hill, the warm light of the lodge coming into veiw as we pass under moving chairs on the lift. Up ahead there's one more turn. A steep one. I know it's my last chance to catch up and when I see her slowing down to go around it, I let myself go full speed.

A large spray of snow is kicked up as I whip around the turn, putting all my focus on leaning into it and not hitting Riley, who takes the turn a couple feet away. I thankfully manage not to fall and use the momentum to speed myself into the lead. I grin as I realize I'm home free. The trail ends in a short, steep slope at the bottom of the hill, and it looks like I'll be getting there first.

I can't resist looking over my shoulder at Riley, now quite a good distance behind me due to the turn. I can't see her facial expression by she shakes her head so I picture her rolling her eyes. Just for good measure, I send her a cheerful wave.

She suddenly comes to a stop and I worry for a second that I've taken the cockiness to far. But then she yells out my name and something along the lines of 'watch out', but I don't hear it because my snowboard gets hooked on something, and then it loses contact with the ground, and then... well, I'm not exactly sure what happens.

I bang into a hard thing -ouch, a really hard thing- and my body goes crashing to the ground. Despite its soft appearance, I find out that snow is not the best cushion when you faceplant into it. I'm pretty sure I tumble head over heels before coming to a thudding stop on my back. I guess I should have remembered about the patch of trees that separates the two exiting slopes. I breath heavy for a moment, vaguely wondering when my goggles and hat decided to dislodge itself from my head, but then I remember that it probably has something to do with the really hard thing I banged into.

"And _that's_ why you should wear a helmet."

When I look to the edge of the tree line, I half expect a doubling image to be swimming around my vision like in the cartoons, but it doesn't happen. Instead, all I get is one, smaller than average, definitely not cartoon girl standing in the light of the trail with a laugh in her voice. Even despite the embarrassment of the fall, the sound still produces a small, exhausted smile from me. Until I remember what she said about a helmet, and in turn remember my head, and I find there's pain in it.

Strangely, it's more of a stinging feeling instead of the expected throbbing considering I hit it, and it's only on the top right corner of where I assume my hair line to be. I take off my glove, reaching an arm up to check and frowning when I feel something on my hand.

"Are you okay?" The laugh is gone from Riley voice now, replaced with concern. I take my hand down to look at it, immediately noticing the blood coating my fingers. It startles me into sitting up, black spots appearing in my sight and making me shake my head to clear it.

"I think I hit my head." I mutter, touching the spot again and letting out a hiss of pain when it stings.

"Alright, I'm coming in." Riley decides. "Just give me a sec."

I slowly scoot back until I sit against a tree, noticing the blood left in the snow from my hand. "Uh, you're not scared of blood are you?" I ask.

She snorts and steps out of her snowboard, lodging it against a tree and putting her helmet and goggles in the same place. "Scared of blood? I'm a girl, Stanley. Do you know I what I _do_ every month?"

She starts clumsily making her way through the snow while I laugh a little. "Well no, but I didn't think it involved spontaneously bleeding every-" I let the words fall as it clicks. "Oh." She chuckles, the sound uninterrupted even when she almost trips up, righting herself with the speed and absentmindedness that only comes from a person who's been clumsy their whole life. "You really are an open book aren't you?"

"It's common knowledge."

"Well, I didn't need a reminder."

"Maybe not. But you did need a distraction."

The statement makes me furrow my eyebrows, the pain the movement brings to my cut making me remember exactly what she's referring to. As I watch her stumble through the snow in the few feet off the trail it takes to get to me, I become aware that distracting people from themselves might just be her way of comforting.

"Okay, what do you have done to yourself?" She kneels down in front of me and squints at my head. Then she sighs. "It's too dark, I can't see anything. Why couldn't you have gotten injured on the trail, preferably under one of the lights?"

"Hey, it's not my fault you were so eager to come in after me." I smirk, feeling something running down the side of my head. Probably blood.

"Be quiet and hold these." She shoves her gloves into my lap and unzips her coat, digging around for the inside pocket that she put her phone into. Turning on the flashlight app, she zippers her jacket back up before looking at me, and I watch her eyes widen, never good at hiding her expressions. "Oh, you _are_ bleeding. I thought you were just being a baby, but this is a pretty good amount of..."

Riley presses her lips together and shoves the phone in my lap too, quickly insisting that I be useful and point it upwards so she can see. I do as she asks and her eyebrows tug together in worry. She makes a move like she's going to touch it but then pulls her hands away, unsure and shaking her head. She lets a sigh out through her teeth.

"Shit."

The word is so muttered and under her breath that I barely hear it, and even then I'm not sure it's real. I just stare for a minute at her as she debates what to do, uncaring for her unusual language choice. I've seen her come close to swearing before, and often find amusement in the way she starts the words and then hastily adds on an innocent ending, but I've never actually heard her _say_ a curse word before. And as I look at her, I realize she doesn't even know she said it.

"Oh my God." I find my voice and she shifts her focus from my injury to my eyes, startled.

"What? Does it hurt?"

"You just swore."

She scoffs. "No I didn't."

My mouth drops open. "You did!"

"I don't swear, Stan." She replies, a hint of irritation in her voice. I raise my eyebrows, not caring about the sting in my head or her orders to keep still.

"Oh..." a laugh runs through my accusation and she looks at me like I'm crazy. "But you did."

She rolls her eyes, which I triumphantly take as a relent. When she sees my grin still stuck in place, she gives me a stern look. "Shut up and let me take a look at this."

"You've _been_ looking-"

"Shh..." she focuses on it again after I shut my mouth, her hands staying near my head like she wants to do something but is afraid to touch anything in fear of making it worse. Eventually she sighs for the third time in two minutes, sitting back on her heels. "I think we should get you inside and find a first aid kit. There's not much we can do up here." She unstraps my snowboard she says it, looking around.

I shrug as she puts her phone back and stands up, pulling on her gloves. "You really don't think there's anything we could do up here... in the dark, secluded woods?" I waggle my eyebrows suggestively.

"You know that's how most horror movies start, right?" She tilts her head a little and reaches a hand out to help me up. I take it but rely mostly on myself to stand, not wanting to pull her down too.

When I stand I'm right in front of her, our faces almost touching when I look down and she looks up at the same time. "Lucky for you, I left my murdering tendencies at home."

She chokes on a laugh, looking down so her forehead is resting on the chest of my jacket as she giggles. Another thing about her; she doesn't exactly have a personal space bubble. It wasn't obvious at first, but after a while I started to notice little things, like how she puts her hand on my arm when she talks, or how instead of moving away when I get a tad too close, she leans into me. Some people might be bothered by being touched for no reason all the time, but I don't mind. I've never really had a girl friend -notice the space between the words- that I can get this close with and not feel the need to initiate anything else. Well, that's not exactly true, because right now I do feel the urge to put my arms around her and pull her to me, but I resist it. Somehow, the rest of the contact feels like enough. For now.

She lifts her head after a moment, the lopsided grin on her face that makes one eye crinkle more than the other just a little. "I didn't think it could get creepier, but-" she steps back and lifts her shoulders in a shrug. "Congratulations, I guess? You did it."

She turns to walk out of the trees and I follow close behind her, snowboard under my arm. "Hey, I said I _wasn't_ going to murder you."

"While at the same time admitting you had murderous tendencies." There's a laugh in there, coming through at the end of the sentence.

"I guess I can see why that would be a red flag." I admit. We emerge into the light and she turns to get her snowboard. Her eyebrows tug together when she turns back to me and she sucks in a breath through her teeth.

"It looks even worse in the light." She winces.

"Really?" I touch my head but immediately pull my hand back when a dash of pain runs through it.

"Oh yeah, the cut looks bad too." She adds quickly. She makes a gesture at my face. "I was just talking about that area in general." She holds her snowboard in front of her as a shield when I raise my eyebrows threateningly at her. "Your hat and goggles are over there." She nods at the the edge of the tree patch and takes a cautious step back. I look at her for a moment longer but can't stifle a smile when she slowly slides on her helmet for further protection.

When I get my stuff on and I'm ready to go again, we go slowly down the hill this time. "So... about that curse word..." I start casually.

She speeds ahead of me again and my smirk turns into a curse word of my own as I try to catch up. Screw aerodynamics.

. . .

"... and I told him multiple times to wear a helmet, but he just wouldn't listen! And now here we are."

I sigh from one of the empty cafeteria tables as Riley finishes telling the cashier about my fall in great detail. She actually got the first aid kit she went over there for a while ago, the rest of the time was occupied making conversation with the -much less attractive than me- checkout guy. He seems to agree with her, eagerly listening as she spills all the details, even her views on who won the race. I disagree entirely with her on that one, but I decide to leave the argument for another time, attempting to wait patiently as she finishes up her conversation.

"Anyway, thanks for the kit, Brent. I might see you around!" She smiles politely at him and grabs the first aid kit, and making her way over to the table I've claimed.

I notice that he watches her leave for a moment before quickly turning away and grabbing a broom to resume the task he was doing before we entered the eerily empty cafeteria. We were going to go to a bathroom to clean me up until _Brent_ informed us that they were being cleaned. He quickly got Riley the first aid kit, a roll of paper towels, and a glass of water when she asked, and he said it was okay to clean it up out here.

"How do you know his name?" I ask when she sits down across from me on the bench, a leg on either side of the seat so she can face me. I take the same position.

"It was on his name tag." She explains. It's a pretty obvious answer, but I'm still fed up for some reason. She opens up the kit before I have a chance to think about it. "Let's see what we have here."

Her hands come toward my face instead of the gauze and bandaids I see in the red box. She touches gently below the cut but I flinch away with a cry anyway. Her eyes go wide and she pulls her hands back like she's been burned. "Sorry, did I hurt you?"

"No, your hands are cold." I say, wincing.

"Ugh, really?" She rolls her eyes and gives my shoulder a push when I grin. "Idiot."

She reaches for it again but I lean away before she can touch me. "No, I was serious. Your hands are freezing." I eye her hands warily and she sighs but backs off.

"My hands are always cold. Either deal with it or-"

I grab one of her hands while she's talking and cut off her sentence as I rub it between mine. I feel the chill under my palms and suddenly know that this isn't a fast enough method. Looking into her eyes as though asking permission, I cup my hands around hers and bring them to my lips, blowing hot air on her fingers. I'm not sure if she knows her contented sigh is audible, but it makes me grin anyway. My stomach flips when she smiles back.

After a moment she must deem her hand warm enough because she tugs it out of my grip with a cheerful 'thank you', immediately reaching up to my head again. She nudges my arm with her other hand and I chuckle, grabbing that one and doing the same thing.

I don't pull away when she steadies my head this time, her touch so light I can barely feel it. Tilting her head, she frowns a little at the injury. "Are you sure you hit your head?" She asks, fixing her eyes back on mine.

"Pretty sure. Why? What does it look like?" I give her hand a final rub and let go. She takes the other away from my head too, busying herself with ripping off a paper towel as she tries not to smile. It doesn't work. The right corner of her mouth pulls up.

"It looks like a scratch from a tree branch or something." She explains. She dabs the paper towel in the cup of water and squeezes some of the excess water out, humming a little as she brings it to my head. "Which means, you _are_ being a baby about it."

I strike an expression of offence, moving away from her hand. Her amusement vanishes and she whines a little at how difficult I'm making it. "I'm not being a baby! Do see how much blood there is?"

"Blood because of a _scratch_ , not blunt force trauma to the head." She gives me a pointed look. "And if you saw how much blood there is, you'd understand why I just want you to stay still, so come on." She holds up the towel, now stained with a twinge of red.

"Not until you apologize." I argue stubbornly. I smirk when she sighs.

"Please stop making this harder than it has to be."

"I'm not the one making it-"

I'm suddenly jerked forward and it takes me a moment to realize she's latched a hand onto my shirt, tugging me forward so we're eye-level. There isn't actually a smile on her lips, but I can see the expression in her eyes, and in that moment something stirs in me, because there's something about her pulling me closer and those eyes that just... does _stuff_ to me.

She touches the cold paper towel to my head once again, and I don't protest this time because I'm too busy noticing how we've gotten closer. I've been this close to her before, but it's only now that I realize I've never actually looked. Sure I know she has brown eyes and dimples, but if I _looked_ I surely would have noticed the dark flecks of brown in her eyes or -even more startling- the very light smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks. Even when I sit back up as she continues to dab away at the spot, I wonder if she's always had the features. As much time as I've spent with her, I feel bad for never noticing these small things.

"You have freckles." I state, tilting my head a little as I try to decide why the features that didn't stand out until now suddenly look so natural. It's probably because I've always seen it, I just haven't acknowledged it.

Her fingers squeeze gently on my head as she straightens it. "Uh, yeah." She doesn't seem like she knows what to say. "They're really light, so I'm pretty sure most people don't notice." She shrugs.

"Well, they're-" cute. The word is one my tongue but I stop before it can come out. Cute seems too small for her, but any other word would probably just be creepy, so I redirect the sentence all together. "They suit you."

"Thanks." She lifts a shoulder in a shrug and shoots me a small smile. But then the paper towel rubs against the cut and she winces when I do, tugging her arm away. "Sorry."

"It's okay." I reply immediately, feeling a little bad about making her feel guilty for doing what she needs to do.

She rinses the towel in the water, turning it a little pink when she rings it out again. "You know what I think?" She puts it back, this time directly on the cut. She keeps talking so I can focus on her voice instead of the sting. "I think you didn't actually hit anything. Your board got hooked on a tree and the momentum to the ground caused you to believe you hit something before falling down, when really it was just the snow." Seeing that I'm actually accepting her explanation, she smiles and continues. "You nicked your head on a tree branch and it pulled your hat and goggles off, and gave you this cut."

I narrow my eyes at her for long enough for her to finish cleaning the blood away. "Did you get CSI up there or something?"

"No, it's just my own assumptions." She admits with a chuckle. She takes a bottle of something out of the first aid kit and pours a little onto a new paper towel. When she sees me eyeing it warily, she explains. "It's just something to clean it. It's non-sting."

"Right." I reply doubtfully.

She looks up at me with a smile so gentle it would be condescending on anyone else, but on her it's just reassuring. "I promise." She says. When I'm still unconvinced, I watch her put on a deadly serious expression before lifting her hand between us, her pinky stuck out. I raise my eyebrows in disbelief at the childish gesture but she just keeps her expression the same.

"You're serious." I state.

"Oh yeah."

She's fighting a smile now, teeth catching her bottom lip as the corner of her mouth pulls up anyway. I try not to let the expression effect me, struggling to maintain a deadpan as I reach up and hook my pinky with hers. A grin breaks her already crumbling resolve and she lets out short giggle at my flat agreement. And damn it if I don't grin back like an idiot, even when she moves to get the paper towel.

"Ready?" She asks when she holds it up.

I nod and brace myself for the sting that usually accompanies cleaning a cut, but the only pain comes from the pressure of the towel. She sees my surprise and raises her eyebrows smugly.

"I told you." She sing-songs.

"Congratulations, you can read a label."

Smirking, Riley takes the paper towel away and picks up a dry one. "Sarcasm is not becoming of you, Stanley."

"Well, maybe swearing isn't becoming of you." I counter. She lets out a disbelieving noise, patting the cut dry.

"I didn't swear." She protests weakly, sounding like she's giving up.

"You can say what you want, but I know what I heard." I say stubbornly, earning me an eye roll.

She lets out a heavy sigh. "Whatever." It only takes her a moment to smile at her own dramatics, easily leaving the annoyed facade behind. She gently dabs the cut one last time before taking her hand away and rifling through the first aid box.

"What are you looking for now?" I ask.

"A bandaid." She replies. "Sadly, there's no superhero ones so you'll have to deal with a plain one." She pulls out a small bandaid -smaller than I thought considering how big I thought the cut was- and starts opening the package.

"It's okay. Beige brings out my eyes." I wink at her and she laughs, shaking her head. She pulls open the package, carefully bringing the bandaid toward my head.

"It might if your hair wasn't in the way." I feel the bandaid being gently pushed on my head.

"My hair doesn't cover my eyes." I correct. Really, it would if I didn't style it so most of it flops to one side of my head, but I probably have hat hair so I assume it's not exactly behaving at the moment.

"Still." Riley tilts her head to the side with a little smile. I'm surprised when her fingers leave the bandaid and thread through my hair instead, and it _definitely_ doesn't feel way better than it should. Not a bit. Then she gives it a soft tug. "It's too long." She takes her hand away with a sigh and I'm almost disappointed when she stands up, gathering the garbage into her hands.

"Hey, chicks dig this hair." I run a hand through it and smirk.

She purses lips, letting out a breath through her nose. "Whatever you say."

I stare after her with a threatening look when she turns to walk away before I can speak. She looks back halfway there and laughs when she sees the expression, making me smile too. I start putting on my gear as she returns the first aid kit after another detailed exchange with _Brent_. He looks at her again as she comes back, but quickly adverts his eyes when he sees me watching. I get it, she's cute and talkative and nice, but it doesn't mean he has to make his interest so obvious.

Riley comes back and we both get the rest of our gear on loosely, silently deeming it time to head back to the room. She puts her coat on without zipping it up and her helmet on without fastening the strap, giving her a beautifully casual look that my eyes get stuck on for a minute. I notice _Brent_ watching and quickly tear my eyes away like he did earlier. Okay, maybe I'm a bit of a hypocrite.

We grab our snowboards from outside, the only ones left out there considering the hill closes in fifteen minutes. We take the wooden bridge around the front of the building and as we're walking across the parking lot, I put an arm around Riley's shoulders, pulling her tightly to my side.

"You know, I really think we should talk about that swear word."

"I didn't freaking swear!"

* * *

 **Alright, that's it for now. Again, sorry for the wait. Thanks for reading and leave a review if you feel like it, thanks :)**


	23. Chapter 23

**Hey guys!**

 **You already know where I'm going with this AN so I'm not going to waste any time...**

 **SORRY!**

 **I feel really bad, I've been gone for four months and I really don't have a great excuse aside from school and a major creativity block. But I really am sorry if it helps. Believe it or not, I do try my hardest to get these chapters up in a timely fashion (which never happens, as you all know from my apaologies every single chapter). I found writing this chapter particularly hard for some reason, and I don't know why. I usually do the bulk of my writing over multiple different times when I feel creative and that didn't seem like it happened at all for me over the past months, and I really hate putting stuff on here that I feel is not good work, so that's why it takes me so long. You all left wonderful, understanding reviews though and I love seeing them, they make me extremely happy!**

 **Reviews:**

 **loricnumbersix6- Hey, glad you like the Jix. I'm always worried when I write something out of Maren's comfort zone that it's too unbelievable, but I'm happy it works! Totally agree with you about having some drama input in here... not going to pinpoint what it is but _something_ will be happening soon to spice things up. Thanks for the review!**

 **navrina78- So happy the fluff chapter was well received. I get a little nervous whenever I write the romantic scenes, about it seeming too forced or out of place, but your review definitely made me feel better about it :) thanks for the support!**

 **Helix- Totally agree, why do homework when you can read? So happy you're enjoying the story, I hope you keep enjoying it :) (P.S. I hope you got all your homework done! And I always encourage school over reading but I choose reading every time too so we're in the same boat :) )**

 **YasiYasi- Wow, that's a long test, must have been hard! Hope you get a good mark and you get into the school you want, and I'm glad the story made your day a little less stressful :) thanks for reviewing!**

 **Booklover123- Hey, thanks for the review :) I'm glad you like Stanley and Riley (Ranley?), I really like them too although I do get worried sometimes that I might focus on them too much and not enough on the other couples. I'm happy it's well received, and thanks for the support!**

 **Guest (Nov 8th)- Hi, thanks for the lovely review! I'm not exactly sure how many chapters left in this. Possibly about... 20? I don't know yet, that's just an estimate. After this story is done I have a couple other ideas but I'd probably just do a one-shot series around all their adult lives, not sure yet. Anyway, it's just an idea, I probably shouldn't be thinking that far into the future yet since I can't even seem to get the current chapters up lol. Thanks!**

 **Guest (Nov 9th)- Awe Thanks! Love you too and I'm happy you're enjoying the story :)**

 **J- First of all, I love long reviews, thank you so much! I also really like that you put everything in list form to make it easy for me to answer, so here we go: 1. Wow thank you so much :) Glad you're enjoying the story and there will be some conflict in the future, even though it's great you're still enjoying it without any! (By the way, you're right, I am a girl. I do relate more to the female POV and tend to write in it more, although I'm trying to work on that so fingers crossed). 2. It's good to hear that Riley is a relatable character, I'm always a little worried that people may not be interested since she's an OC so that's good to hear :) I personally don't relate very much to her (I have a profanity issue too, but I never had a rebellious phase), but I really do like writing her, wether it's her point of view or just from the viewpoint of the other characters. 3. I had to laugh when I read the part in your review about Riley's height, because it makes complete sense and I have been regretting choosing that height for her for a while. The thing is, to make the stuff in this story as real as possible, I try to base many parts of it off personal experience (not that I have the same life as any of these characters at all other than the fact I'm in school). I'm actually pretty tall, and weirdly, most of my friends growing up have been around the same height as me, so something like 5'6 is considered a tad short in my world. I wrote that a long time ago though, and I hope that I'm getting better at broadening my perspectives when it comes to things like that. Thank you for mentioning that, I actually addressed it in this chapter before I even saw your review because it's been on my mind for a while :) 4. Thanks! Writing from the male POV is sometimes a bit challenging because I have a girls mind so even though I try to imagine, I don't know how guys think. Glad to know it's good, thank you! 5. Thanks for understanding school stress, means a lot that people get it and know that I'm not deliberately making y'all wait, because I really hate making you guys wait, trust me! Whew, that was a long response (hope you don't mind), thank you so much for the review and please keep coming with the advice and comments :)**

 **Alright, thank you so much to everyone else that read and/or reviewed, including the guests and everyone mentioned up there (I think I got everyone). This chapter is pretty long, and I've been looking at it and rereading the same parts and revising and editing and everything else you can think of for what feels like a year. Alas, it is done (I'm still not completely happy but it's 1:00 in the morning and it's done). By the way, this is the second longest chapter. Over 20'000 words so... I hope you have some time on your hands...**

 **Thanks again for being so patient with me, and I hope you enjoy :)**

* * *

 **Maren**

Today is our last day here. Before the trip, I would have never thought I'd want to stay in a freezing cold place with noisy roommates for longer than I possibly needed to. I honestly never thought I'd last a weekend. But today, on a Sunday, and on our last day here, I'm suddenly disappointed to see it all go so fast. This whole thing has kind of changed my mind about my whole 'meeting new people is a waste of time' concept in life, and I've actually gotten pretty good at snowboarding.

Well, I was starting to get good, and I might have gotten close today if a sudden accident didn't just cause my progress to go backwards, like, tenfold. It wasn't my accident, it was someone else's accident. A boy, more specifically. He looked like a preteen and his '360 degree turn gone wrong' incident that ended with my knee jacked up might have been an attempt at impressing his friend group.

I wish he was off with his friends now, but he's in front of me as I sit in the snow, spewing off an awkward apology as I try to ignore the pain of his snowboard hitting my knee.

"I'm so sorry!"

I hit the sleeve of my jacket to wipe the snow off it, hoping that distracting myself will keep my face glare-free for the time being. I'm not big on apologies because it means comforting people for something they did wrong when the person who the wrong was done to should be the one in need of comfort. Not that I want comfort or anything because that's just... ew. But I really wouldn't mind him leaving so I wouldn't feel the need to console him.

"It's fine." I don't look up at him, pushing at the snow to test the strength in my leg. A sharp pain rips through the throbbing and I clench my teeth to keep my face from showing anything.

"Are you sure? Because I hit you pretty hard and I really didn't mean to."

I breath out through my teeth, patience wearing thin with this kid. "I know, and it's fine."

"Okay..." He stays silent for another moment, squashing my hope that the statement would be the end of this interaction. I finally look up at him, the guilty look on his face only irritating me more. "But I am really sorry, I _really_ didn't mean to-"

"And it's _really_ fine, Okay? Just _really_ stop apologizing because it's _really_ making me want to-"

"Okay! Thanks so much but I can take it from here!"

Riley interrupts my threat, coming from behind me just in time to save this kid's feelings, which are probably pretty fragile considering the amount of consoling he required. She pulls down the fabric over her mouth to smile brightly at him, shooting him an encouraging thumbs-up. He finally decides to leave me alone, quickly making his way back to the group of friends he was obviously trying to impress. It might of worked if I didn't happen to be in the way.

I glower in the direction he went but Riley gets in front of me and blocks my view with what I would imagine to be a warning look if she didn't have goggles on. I return it with my glare and she sighs, giving up. "Jeez, I leave you alone for one minute and you're already threatening children."

"It's not my fault, he wouldn't leave." I defend.

"That's generally what happens when people want to see if you're okay."

"Well, it's stupid."

Riley shakes her head in amusement before holding out her hands for me to take. She hasn't taken her snowboard off but somehow she's able to balance well enough to start to pull me up. I can't go the whole way up though, because my knee splits into pain again at the pressure and I can't stop a wince. Riley lets go of my hands in shock and I fall back back down in the snow, the jarring movement making the stabbing pain worse for a second, and the throbbing worse after that settles.

"Jesus, R." I complain.

"Oh God, sorry!" I roll my eyes at the rerun from just a minute ago, watching as she drops to her knees in front of me. "Sorry, but I just didn't expect it to hurt because you never get hurt, so-"

"Riley."

"Right, yeah." She pulls up her goggles, revealing her unsure expression. "I wish Marina could come up, she'd be better at this."

I roll my eyes at her dramatics and decide to take my goggles off too, feeling a little less suffocated. I look farther down the hill, where I notice a small cluster of people I can pick out as the rest of our friends. They must have stopped after noticing we did. "Calm down, it's not even bad."

"Maren, If you can't get up, it's bad."

"I could have gotten up if _someone_ never dropped me."

"Because you're hurt." I huff at the reminder and internally cringe at my mistake. Riley just looks at me seriously. "Stop being tough for a second and just tell me how bad it is."

After a short debate in my head, I decide there's two reasons I tell her. One is because is unsettling to see her worried to the point of actually putting on a serious face. And two, because my leg is actually hurting pretty bad.

"Well, when the guy tried to jump out of the ditch, he landed right here-" I touch the side of my leg carefully. "And I think it bent weird." I finish, not exactly knowing what happened for sure.

"How much pressure can you put on it?" Riley asks.

"Enough to get down the hill." I reply immediately. The last thing I need is to be helped down the whole time when I'm perfectly capable of getting down myself.

Riley puts her gloved hands on the bottom of my snowboard, seemingly ignoring my comment. "Push this as hard as you can, with only the left leg." She instructs. Usually I'd be able to push her hand easily, but even just applying a little pressure causes a hard shot of pain. I keep my facial expressions under control this time, but can't stop a hiss when I push a little harder. Riley arches an eyebrow at me disbelievingly. "That's it? Really?"

"Well if I knew you'd be this judgmental I wouldn't have tried at all."

"Sorry." she chuckles. After a pause, she continues. "But you probably shouldn't go down the hill like that."

"Well, what else am I supposed to do?" I question. "It's not even that bad and I'm not going to make a big scene over a minor thing."

She sighs. "Maybe you should, it doesn't seem good-oh, that rhymed!" She snorts but when she sees me roll my eyes she puts on a serious face again. "Sorry, anyway..."

As she keeps trying to persuade me, I see somebody stray from our friend group behind her. The skis he left behind and blue jacket tells me it's John starting to make his way up the hill. If there's one thing I'm sure of, it's that he doesn't need to know the extent of this thing. He'll probably make just as big a deal of it as Marina.

"No." I cut off whatever Riley was saying. "I'm getting up. Now."

"Maren-"

"No, come on, help me up. I just have to walk it off." She gives me a weird look and I roll my eyes. "Or snowboard it off, you know what I mean."

She lets out a soft sigh, seeming to debate it but probably aware that I won't be swayed. Finally she stands and holds out her hands again, which is fortunate because I think John was actually starting to pick up his pace.

She helps me up and doesn't stop pulling when I wince this time, and I give her a nod of thanks. I'm honestly glad Marina isn't here because she wouldn't be so easily persuaded.

"Just to be clear, I _am_ against this." Riley says. "And I really think that you should go inside at the bottom and rest it. I can make up an excuse if you want but you shouldn't stay up here with it like that." I nod and she still looks conflicted but she puts down her goggles. "If I were you I'd ride with the right foot first."

She motions for me to go on and I try to smoothly start off, knowing she's watching every move I make much closer than before. Even with the good leg in front, it's still a hell of a lot harder to go down the hill while trying not to put pressure on the back one. I'm willing to bet I look as awkward as I think I do, but everyone who was waiting me goes on anyway when I wave. Well, one person stays behind, and it doesn't take a genius to figure out who it is.

"Are you okay?" John asks as I come near him, apparently deeming Marina capable of skiing without constant supervision for a minute.

"Fine." I reply shortly. I really don't want to stop because that means a lot of pressure on my leg, so I coast on by him with a gesture to come on. He already has his skis back on, probably reattaching them when he saw me getting up, so he quickly catches up.

"You sure?"

"John." I warn.

"Alright, fine." I puts his hands up, his ski poles making the gesture look funny but I don't comment on it. "Just... take it easy. Okay?"

And just with that comment he goes on ahead of me, closer to Marina who is looking pretty confident on her own anyway. I'm Glad he doesn't actually know what happened though, because he would surely be asking a lot more questions if he did.

After a bit we come to a stop a little further down the hill. Predictably, I get lots of questions from Marina about the incident that I give very curt responses to. I don't ask her to, but she tells me she'll go into the lodge with me when we get down. Although she complains about her muscles aching, I know she's going inside almost entirely because of me, and it makes me feel bad until I realize there's nothing I can do change her mind. She's just that type of person.

"Trust me, I'm sore in muscles I didn't even know I had." She insists to try and convince me that her motives to go in the lodge have nothing to do with my injury. "Plus, if Stanley is dragging us all to that party tonight, I'll need all the energy I can get."

"That's what alcohol is for."

It almost startles me to hear Stanley's voice. I didn't even know he was listening, let alone absorbing enough to actually comment something that makes a relative amount of sense. But like everything he says, some of the logic is still lost. It must be a gift.

"And if we were of drinking age, that advice would be helpful." John points out.

Stanley lets out a low chuckle. "Someone didn't see the beer already conveniently back at the room."

"And how are you planning to get that in?" John presses. This seems to momentarily stump Stanley. He stares at his feet for a second, deep in though. Then he nods slowly to himself.

"I'll get it in." He says quietly.

"Well I'm glad that's cleared up." Joseph joins in, clasping his hands together like we've done something productive. "We should probably get going though, you know, before someone hears us talking about beer smuggling."

"Maybe don't use the words 'beer' and 'smuggling', smart-ass." Stanley shakes his head and then nods way too casually as a greeting to a skier as they pass by.

John clears his throat awkwardly. "Yeah, we should just go."

. . .

"Do you _have_ to look so depressed?"

Riley emerges from the hall, arching an eyebrow at my empty stare at the ceiling as I lie on the couch. There are a couple reasons for my attitude. One of them being that I'm completely bored after sitting in the lodge with Marina for two hours and coming back to the room and doing the same thing. And the second reason being that Marina has gotten me to prop my leg up in this ridiculous position ever since we've been back and John has been coming in every fifteen minutes to ask if I need more ice. I really have no choice but to frown.

"Pretty much, yeah." I let my head flop to the side to look at her as she heads to the kitchen with a bath towel wrapped around her body.

She hasn't been in the shower yet judging by her dry hair. I regard her strange appearance with little to no surprise. She's not a modest person, although I do admit to a little bit of wonder about how she can walk around so unconcerned like that when there are three young men just a floor above that can come down at any moment. But then I remember that I once saw her greet her sisters boyfriend _casually_ in a bra and track pants, and I start to think that she really might need a lesson on other people's comfort levels.

I furrow my eyebrows when she starts opening cupboards with the same intensity Joseph had just last night. "What are you doing?"

"I'm looking for food." She huffs as she stands on her toes to get to one of the higher cupboards.

"Aren't you getting in the shower? Like, now?"

"Mar is still in the bathroom. Seriously, I've been waiting for _forty_ minutes, I'm hungry!" She lowers her voice and looks over her shoulder with a grimace. "Plus, I think she's doing her makeup and I've learned my lesson about interrupting her mascara ritual."

At that I actually almost laugh, remembering Riley dodging several makeup components after accidentally nudging Marina's arm during the ordeal. "Okay, I see your point." I admit. She nods solemnly and goes back to her search. "By the way Joseph basically tore those cupboards apart last night, and was very insistent that the only thing he found was utensils and mugs."

Riley snorts. "Maybe he never looked hard enough."

"Maybe you need to accept that we're going out for supper soon. I'm sure you're not going to starve to death in an hour."

"Yeah, but I'll whine about it so..." She stretches for a higher cupboard but can't seem to quite reach it. I hear footsteps coming down the steps while she resorts to getting a chair from the kitchen table.

"Don't fall." I warn.

"Maren, I've got this." She replies way too confidently.

I just nod but watch her anyway even though I won't be able to do anything of use if she _does_ happen to take a tumble. She stands up on the chair and makes a sound of satisfaction as she easily opens the cupboard.

I watch Stanley emerge from the hall, the characteristic cocky smirk on his face when he sees me on the couch. He opens his mouth to spew his usual, 'Hello Ladies' routine, until the precarious situation to his left catches his eye. He looks into the kitchen and literally stumbles to a stop at the entrance of the hallway. At first I think he's concerned, but then I notice his eyes widening and his mouth drift open the slightest amount as he looks in Riley's direction. His throat bobs as he swallows, and I finally get it.

I actually snort because, _seriously_? I know she's pretty and in shape and whatever, but a towel is definitely not the most revealing thing she could be wearing. Maybe her hair being down might've startled him too. Whatever it is, he's paying way too much attention.

Riley looks over her shoulder at my noise and spots Stanley, who audibly clears his throat. She just grins, hilariously oblivious. "Oh, hey Stanley." She turns back to her search.

I watch with a growing smile as Stanley seems to struggle for a response for a second. "Pierce." He finally greets. "Nice outfit."

Riley laughs. When she turns around again he has his smirk on again, apparently recovered, or at least doing a good job of acting like it. "Straight from Vogue." She replies. I bite back bark of laughter when she winks at him before turning back to the open cupboard, and his smirk lessens. Okay, maybe she's not _completely_ oblivious.

There's a click as the bathroom door opens, Stanley spinning to investigate just for a distraction. "Was that Marina going out of the bathroom?" Riley asks.

"Yeah, uh huh." Stanley replies quickly.

"Ugh, finally." She closes the cupboard door and hops down from the chair. "Oh, put that chair back will you? Thanks." She pats him on the shoulder as she casually breezes past, leaving him looking after her.

She closes the bathroom door, Stanley only tuning back into the world after she disappears. He notices me and gives me a curt nod. I don't even bother hiding my grin. This is, hands down, the most entertained I've been this entire trip.

"You okay there, Stanley?" I ask innocently.

His eyes dart to mine and he gives me an incredulous expression with a laugh that's a little too stiff. "Always, Sweetheart." He seems to remember the chair and moves to pick it up.

"Alright. You just look a little red. Are you too warm or something?"

"I'm fine." He replies, grunting as he lifts the chair and avoiding my eyes as he brings it to its place at the table.

I just hum agreeably as he places the chair down, taking a bit too much time to make sure it's perfectly positioned before moving away. There's a silence for a moment. Finally, I speak up. "Can I ask a question?"

He looks at me defiantly. "Fire away."

"Great." I roll over so I can face him completely, lodging my chin on a fist. "So, are _you_ the reason they banned spaghetti straps at school? Like, does a set of shoulders just _do_ _it_ for you?"

He doesn't say a word, just takes his hands off the chair, spins on his heel, and stalks out of the room. I think it's the first time I've genuinely laughed today.

. . .

"Now, _this_ is a party."

Stanley nods approvingly and looks around as he places a red beer cooler on the floor next to the table we've chosen. Thanks to his absolutely _stellar_ beer smuggling skills (which just involved managing to carry a very large cooler into the upper level of the lodge unnoticed), he managed to get eighteen bottles of beer into the event. I'm actually a little concerned about how fast the lodge's bar will go into debt if it's this easy for people to get booze in. Stanley says he'll go back to the room to get more if we need it, but I hope we won't. He's bad enough sober.

"Literally every single one of your parties are better than this." John says, cringing as a girl doing karaoke onstage tries to hit a high note.

Stanley grins and pats his back. "I know, dude. But you gotta take what you can get."

John just shakes his head and everyone pulls out a chair. John sits down too but as soon as he sees me pulling out a chair he stands again. "Here, let me get that." Before I can even protest, he's behind me, positioning the chair so I can sit down easy. I decide it's just easier at this point not to protest so I sit down, muttering a quick thanks.

Stanley leans down and starts dishing out drinks, not even asking who wants one. Riley slides hers back over the table as soon as she gets it and Stanley slides it to her again. When she gives him a look, he just winks and says, "I'll leave it there in case you want it later" Riley doesn't protest but she doesn't open it when the bottle opener is passed around. I'd suspect even if she thought she'd want it later she would have given it back to him so he could put it back in the cooler, because who wants to drink warm beer?

"So..." Joseph says after a beat of silence. "What do we do here exactly?" He looks to Stanley for an answer, automatically deeming him an expert on anything to do with drinking and stupidity.

"You've all been to a party before." Stanley says. I'm thankful the music isn't too loud that we can't hear each other talking, like it was at the one and only other party I've went to. "We drink, dance..." he points his beer to the stage, where the woman who was singing before is passing the mic to another girl, waving her hands and getting a surprising amount of applause. "After enough drinks, we can sing."

John chuckles. "Yeah, a _lot_ of drinks." I can't help but agree. I can't see how anyone in there right mind would want to go up in front of a bunch of strangers to belt out a song (probably terribly).

"Who says we need to be drunk?" Joseph grins and I suddenly know that he's exactly the type of person that would do that without shame. "Come on, who's up for it?" He points to Marina first, who politely declines.

"Not drunk enough." John says.

Stanley nods. "Ditto."

Joseph looks hopefully at Riley, who shakes her head. "I don't sing."

He looks at me next, but quickly gives up without me even having to say anything. "Nobody? I was going to break out 'Islands in the stream' and everything!" He throws his hands up in disgust.

"Well, I'm hungry." Riley says standing up. "So I'm just gonna go downstairs and get a bit of everything. Does anyone want to help?" She asks hopefully. Marina and I share a look, both of us thinking about a certain ex-boyfriend that works at the cafeteria.

"Me and Joseph can go down." Marina says, standing up and gesturing for Joseph to do the same. He gets up quickly and just smiles, not offended at all that he was elected without his permission. Riley looks confused but sits down again anyway, watching them leave with narrowed eyes.

"So, Ladies..." Stanley leans forward on the table, continuing a random conversation before she can get too suspicious. "Who wants the honour of having the first dance with yours truly?"

I just raise an eyebrow, not feeling like I need to voice an answer since it's clear anyway. Riley chuckles. "What if John wants to dance?" She challenges.

Stanley looks John over, who stares blankly back. "He's not pretty enough." He concludes, looking back at Riley while John shrugs, not offended. " _You_ however..." He smirks, confidently standing up and holding out a hand.

"Well, I guess I'm sold." Riley takes his hand with a grin and he pulls her to the open space between the tables, where a few couples are already swaying back and forth to a girl's not-too-good rendition of an Ed Sheran song. They get way closer than John and I did, looking at each other and making smiling conversation. I silently wonder if it should be that easy, the dancing and being with someone. Is it terrible how hard it seems to be for me?

"Is there something going on with them?" John asks, looking out too, and I silently wonder if he was thinking the same thing as me. He's sitting next to me at the circular table, and Marina has thankfully allowed me to keep my leg on the ground instead of propping it up so we can sit side by side.

"Apparently not." I reply.

"Apparently?" John questions.

"Yeah." I reply slowly, starting to get my own suspicions as I look at how comfortable they seem.

"Okay." John chuckles. He doesn't even question the vague response, used to not putting up a fight for information he knows he won't get. "How's your leg?" He asks. "And be honest." He adds after I open my mouth to speak.

I give him a stern look. "It's fine."

"Of course it is." He teases. I roll my eyes. "Do you know who did it?" He looks around as though he'll actually find the guy.

"He was like, twelve, I don't think he's here." I reply. Although I do take a glance around us too, because damn, nobody cared that we brought a massive cooler in here, a child could probably slip by just as easy if there's even an age limit. I have a feeling these things aren't run with too many precautions.

"Oh okay. I just wanted to see if he looked stupid." He explains. I nod understandingly.

"Well you'll be happy to know that he did look _very_ stupid. His hair looked like Justin Bieber's from 2010."

"Hey." He looks at me seriously, eyes stern. "Don't dis the flip, alright? I had my hair like that in grade seven." He states with a surprising lack of shame considering what he's admitting to. I try to picture him with the hairstyle, but I can't seem to do it, which is probably for the better.

"And now I know why we weren't friends in grade seven." I say, taking a sip from my beer while he puts an effort into looking mightily offended.

"First of all," he starts sternly, pointing a finger at me, "that was hurtful."

"Oh yeah?"

"Second of all," He cuts me off before I can finish what he knows is not a sympathetic response. "How do you know there's not a reason I didn't want to be friends with _you_ in grade seven?" He asks, raising his eyebrows smugly.

"There probably is a reason, and it's probably because you couldn't see me through your hair." I reply, copying his raised eyebrows.

"It wasn't even that long. You're ridiculous." He shakes his head, apparently miffed. "And, for your information, I only had it for like a month."

"Aw, did Stanley make fun of you for it?"

He pauses, eyes darting to mine before looking away just as quickly. Then he slowly crosses his arms. "Maybe." He admits, not that I actually needed the answer at this point anyway. His reaction made it pretty clear.

"I'll have to thank Stanley for that later then."

He gasps. "You? Thank Stanley for something? What is the world coming to?"

I shrug nonchalantly. "I feel like it's a good enough reason."

John wrinkles his nose at me and I don't even try to stop a smile. It's small but he sees it, grinning in response and leaning back a little in his chair, like he's just given into relaxing. "So, is this your first time out here?" He asks, steering to topic of conversation into something that I'll have trouble teasing him about.

"Yeah." I say. I debate saying anything else for a minute, because when I tell people I haven't been anywhere they always give me a sad look that I hate. But John hasn't done that yet. "This is actually the farthest I've ever been from the city, so..." I shrug.

"Oh, cheers then." He holds up his beer and I smile before clinking mine against it and taking a sip after. "If you ever get a chance to go somewhere-" he suddenly stops and points a finger at me, looking serious, "and actually hear me out, okay?" Only when I make a show of nodding my agreement does he continue. "If you ever get the chance to go somewhere, I know it's cliche, but... Disney Land." He nods firmly and taps the table, watching my reaction.

I raise an eyebrow, trying not to laugh because I said I would hear him out. Clearing my throat, I try to be serious. "Disney Land, huh?"

"Yup." He affirms. I press my lips together and look at the table, slowly nodding. He catches the look and groans. "Oh, don't laugh."

"I'm not." I reply, but even as the words come out a chuckle is there with them. John rolls his eyes, looking defeated. "Okay, okay. I actually have a serious question." Immediately he seems doubtful, but gestures for me to go on as I try to put on the most solemn expression I can. "Is Disney Land _really_ the happiest place on Earth?"

Even though the question is a little teasing, he goes along with it, letting out a low hum of thought. "Well, it's happier than any other happy place I've been to." He confirms.

I nod in thoughtful agreement, "Right."

"I mean, obviously it's happiness level is still too high to be measured."

"Of course."

"But some people have said, that it may even be happier than a TGI Fridays on Friday."

"Wow." I let out a laugh through my words and he raises his eyebrows at me at though chiding me for laughing at it.

"It's true." He insists with so much seriousness it might actually be mistaken for the truth until he smiles a little, obviously trying to keep it toned down. "Honestly though, Disney is super crowded and hot but... there's something about it you know?" Shrugging, he looks to me for agreement.

I raise an eyebrow. "Something magical?"

He rolls his eyes. "Shut up."

Even though I know he's not serious, I don't say anything else on the topic anyway, thinking I might start to run out of jokes to make about it soon. "So, have you gone anywhere else? I think I'd like to hear some more options." I say.

"Yeah, a few places." He replies, tilting his head slightly in thought. "Quebec, British Columbia, Mexico I think, Hawaii and..." Seemingly stuck, he shakes his head after moment, "There's somewhere else but I can't remember. None of them are better than Disney Land though."

"I bet." I agree sarcastically. He chuckles and sips his beer. "So you do a lot of traveling?" I suddenly begin to think that I sound like I'm just trying to avoid an awkward silence with all the questions. I'm not really. While I do like to hear his answers, I'm also trying to even up how much information we have about each other, because he knows way more about me than I do about him, and I'm not even an interesting person.

"I did when I was younger." He says. "Did the family vacation thing. It was nice."

"You don't do it anymore?"

Glancing at me, he reaches a hand up to scratch the back of his neck and I realize I haven't seen the nervous habit in a while. Nervousness starts to creep into me too as I start to see that this might be getting into sensitive territory. I really didn't mean to bring it there, although I'm not going to back out now and make him feel like he can't tell me. Admittedly, empathy is far from my strong suit, but I've had enough experience to know what not to do.

"No. Not really after my Mom..." he makes a hand gesture that doesn't have much to do with anything. "You know." There's a few things that could be implied with a sentence like that, and even though I really _don't_ know what happened, I get a feeling exactly which one is correct.

"That sucks." Not my best start. He chuckles and I shake my head, trying again. "I'm sorry."

I never used to get why people say sorry when other people die. It's kind of stupid because nobody should apologize for something that has nothing to do with them, and especially over something that couldn't be helped. But after a few funerals, you start to understand it's because there's nothing else to say.

"Thanks." John smiles tightly, just as aware as I am that the conversation took a dramatic turn. An uncomfortable feeling settles inside me suddenly, not because of his admission but because of my inability to say anything remotely comforting about it. The uncomfortable feeling, I realize, is guilt.

Realizing I have to say something, I wrack my mind for any combination of words that would help in in any way, and not make me sound like I'm devoid of emotion. But I know I'd just screw it up if I tried to say anything on behalf of the news he just told me. So instead, I opt for a different topic that might make him feel better. I tap the bottle in my hand, look to the floor, and try to gather any remaining pride I have left. Eventually, I just blurt it out.

"So, uh, thanks. By the way." John looks at me in confusion and you would think I would rush to explain myself, but I really don't know where I'm going with this, so I take my time. "When, you know-" I gesture down to my leg vaguely, " _This_ happened, you were, uh-" I clear my throat, struggling a concerning amount with this 'showing gratitude' thing. "You didn't- you uh-"

"Maren." John interrupts, and thank god for that because I had no idea how to finish it. I finally look at him and he furrows his eyebrows. "Are you trying to say thank you?"

I sigh. It was a stupid idea from the start, and I knew full well that I wouldn't be able to get it out. Yes, I am actually grateful for his help, but I wasn't planning on telling him that. I usually wouldn't make a fool of myself on purpose (that's more Riley's thing), but I felt like I needed to make up for the topic I brought the conversation to. And, maybe it was at my expense, but maybe I meant it to be.

"Something like that." I finally mutter.

He grins, and I'm really glad he never turned out to need any type of great comfort from me, because I'm pretty sure I don't have the capability. "You're so weird." He chuckles.

"You have a dog named after a football player." I defend.

His eyebrows furrow, apparently taken aback by my counter. "A _lot_ of people do that."

"Nobody does that." I say flatly. John opens his mouth and I can almost hear his arguments before he even says anything. "Fine, maybe last names." I correct. He can't seem to counter me with anything else so he just sips his beer as I continue. "But nobody actually names a dog the full name of- _actually_ ," Holding up a finger as I interrupt myself, I raise my eyebrows at John, who even laughs at his own lack of defence, "Who even gives a dog a full name? Like, you actually went and put a last name on your dog, and it's not even _your_ _own_ last name!" I point at him. "You do not get the right to call me weird. Ever."

I sigh as I finish and John is still laughing. I raise an eyebrow at him and he stops for a moment before looking at me a cracking up again. "Are you done?" He finally chuckles.

I shrug, lifting my bottle to take a sip. "Unless you have something you'd like to add."

"We got him from a shelter."

Pausing with the bottle to my lips, I look at him in the corner of my eye to see if he's lying. He's grinning, and he has that amused smug look on his face that tells me he's very much telling the truth.

I swallow my beer and take the bottle down, setting it on the table. "Did you actually?" I sigh.

"Yeah, we decided not to change his name since he was used to it." He states matter-of-factory, but obviously very amused about my reaction.

I click my tongue, mulling over what to say. Eventually I sigh again. "Well now I feel bad." I shake my head, but chuckle anyway, which I suspect doesn't make my words any more believable.

"I thought you had a heart of stone." John feigns confusion and I nod thoughtfully.

"Yeah, there is that. Guess I forgot."

"Brain of stone too then?"

My eyebrows shoot up, not in anger, but in surprised amusement at the jab. He misinterprets the look and puts his hands up in defence, scrunching his shoulders and squeezing his eyes shut, which is completely ridiculous.

"Seriously?" I can't help a laugh, shaking my head at him. "When have I _ever_ hit you?"

"Well, once at Stan's house-"

"When have I ever hit you _on purpose_?" I interrupt.

He shrugs cheerfully, finally putting his blockade down once he's deemed me in a good enough mood not to cause harm. "I don't know. I guess you're just scary."

I look at him flatly. "Yes. I'm terrifying." He laughs and I roll my eyes, pushing myself from the seat with a little difficulty, but I try to make it look at smooth as I can.

"Where are you going?" John asks. I'm glad he didn't ask if I needed help, because he might actually need to be scared then.

"Washroom." I reply, walking around the back of his chair and hating myself for the limp, which I can tell is painfully obvious. Looking over my shoulder, I call back, "Maybe I'll frighten some children on the way there. You know. Because I'm so scary."

"You know, on second thought, I think the limp kind of makes up for it." He tilts his head as though studying the way I walk. Smiling tightly before turning and continuing on my limping journey, I shoot him the middle finger over my shoulder.

I hear him laugh behind me, and he probably knows I'm grinning too. I'm fine with it.

 **Marina**

By the time Joseph and I get back up the stairs with armfuls of food (pizza, hamburgers, fries, and wings), John is left at the table alone, everyone else's beers left unattended in their places. Joseph tuts quietly next to me.

"So, we leave for two seconds and everyone ditches us. _Rude_." He mutters, striking an offended expression.

I chuckle and roll my eyes, not bothering to remind him that we were actually gone for closer to 20 minutes. The line was long, and I wished I had let Riley go down instead, especially when I saw Trey was nowhere to be seen.

John seems content to sit at the table alone, taking a sip of his beer and frowning right after, holding it up to examine the now empty bottle before putting it down after making his conclusion. When he sees us coming he quickly jumps up, crossing the crowded room to help us.

"Where did everyone go?" I ask as he reaches out to take the plates.

He lifts his eyes to the ceiling in thought. "Well, Stan and Riley were dancing for a while but I think they're at the bar now..." he trails off as he gets distracted with trying to balance a plate of fries. When he sees Joseph's confused look, he clarifies. "To get Riley a Pepsi." He adds. He holds a hand out to me and I place the bowl of wings I was carrying in his hand.

"And where'd Maren go?"

"Oh, you know-" he shrugs ahead of us, "out on the dance floor."

The shock on Joseph's face is clear. " _What_?" He can't stop a surprised chuckle, swerving around a stranger who's a little too engrossed in a conversation to notice us.

John looks over his shoulder with a small smirk at his reaction. "I'm kidding, she went to the bathroom."

Joseph rolls his eyes, apparently disappointed. I didn't expect it anyway. She can't be near drunk enough yet to even consider dancing at this point. Plus, she'll probably use her leg as an excuse to deny anyone a dance anyway.

John leads us back to the table, where we all set down our plates just as Stanley emerges from the crowd, and points at the food with a huge grin.

"Aw Yeah..." he rubs his hands together, looking way too pleased over the arrival of the plates.

"Weren't you supposed to be with Riley?" John asks, putting a paper plate in each spot around the table.

"Yeah, but the line was really long, and I saw you guys come back so... you know. Priorities and shit." He shrugs and then suddenly smirks at something over my shoulder. I turn to see Maren coming back to the table with an obvious limp. She sits down heavily in her chair when she arrives. "Should we get you some crutches, Sweetheart?" Stanley teases.

"Should we get you some brain cells?" Her counter is almost a second thought as she becomes more focused on looking over the contents of the table. Stanley just grins like he knew the retort was coming but still believed it was worth it anyway.

After Joseph makes a dramatic announcement about the importance of paper plates as he passes them around, everyone sits down and starts grabbing stuff, Stanley being the most enthusiastic. I decide to just wait until everyone else gets their food to get mine. Since I'm not so focused on competing for my meal, I turn to watch the latest karaoke performance onstage. I look on in disbelief as a middle aged man completely _crushes_ a Taylor Swift song. I tilt my head to the side as he dances around the stage like he's having the time of his life and I start to think that anyone going after him is going to have a tough time getting the crowd as excited as he's is.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Riley approaching through the crowd on the dance floor. Or rather, I see Riley nearly pushing people out of the way as she rushes back to the table, turning around every couple seconds to spew apologies.

My attention is drawn from her because of the collective groan I hear from the guys. I turn back to the stage to find Taylor Swift guy in the middle of a well-practiced split and cringe at it myself. Is it healthy for a man's body to bend that way?

Riley's chair moves in my peripheral and look in time to see her drop into it with so much force it moves an inch to the right.

"Guess who I just ran into?" The statement is halfway between an exclamation and a question, but considering how wide her eyes are, I'm willing to bet it's more of the former. Next to her, Maren continues eating, not convinced the revelation is going to yield as much shock as she's letting on. "Actually never mind, you'll never guess, I'll just tell you." She leans in, and just to humour her, I raise my eyebrows in question. I'm not actually concerned though considering it's common for her to comically overreact over small things. She lowers her voice. "I ran into Trey."

To the right of her, Maren literally chokes.

I feel my face go slack with shock asRiley looks over at Maren in alarm but I clear my throat, furrowing my eyebrows. After all the work we put in to keeping them apart, I actually can't believe it. "Um, can you say that again? I don't..." I shake my head, "I don't think I heard right."

"I saw _Trey_." She repeats slowly, making me cringe because, _yup_ , I heard right. Maren is coughing a little violently but she continues anyway. "He was working at the bar and I was too busy watching the karaoke to notice until he talked to me and- oh my _God_ , are you going to be okay?" She looks worriedly at Maren but I just wave a hand.

"She's fine." Maren throws a look at me through her coughing but thankfully can't comment. "So, Trey?" I continue. Riley nods. "Like... _the_ Trey?" Another nod. "Like _your_ Trey? Grade ten-"

"Yes, Mar! That Trey." She confirms, probably a bit confused about how many Treys I could know that would require this level of clarification.

The conversation seems to have attracted the attention of the guys, who, a moment ago, were contemplating the mechanics of a masculine split, but all look this way in interest now. "Who's Trey?" John asks.

"Her Ex." I reply. She raises her eyebrows at me for answering for her, but I don't really care. "Where'd you see him?"

"I told you, at the bar-"

"What was he doing there?"

"Well, I guess he works there. Anyway-"

"What's he doing out here?"

She throws her hands up. "Jeez, Mar, I don't know! It's not like I had a conversation with the guy." She sits back and shakes her head. Then she cringes. "I basically just ran away. Was that rude? It was rude wasn't it? Ugh." She lets her head flop back as she groans dramatically at the ceiling.

"Well, he didn't exactly say goodbye to you very politely either." I point out, feeling a familiar surge of annoyance that I get whenever I think about it. "At least it was justified."

"Wait," Stanley holds out a hand and looks at Riley with what I take as irritated curiosity, "what'd he do?"

Riley lifts her head and sighs. "He spread some uh..." she scratches the back of her neck. "personal business, between him and me around the school and the truth got exaggerated a bit. You probably know about it actually." She nods along with the guys when they confirm reluctantly. "Yeah, and then he moved a couple days later and left me to deal with it." She clears her throat awkwardly because of the topic of conversation, quickly moving on. "But, you know, it's fine. I'm over it. Water under the bridge and stuff."

Maren huffs disbelievingly. "More like-" She suddenly breaks off in a string of coughs and Riley pats her back.

"Don't strain yourself."

Maren pushes her hand away and manages a quick, oxygen deprived, "Shut up". Riley chuckles as Maren finally gets it under control and crosses her arms. Her voice still sounds a little tight when she talks. "I'm just saying, you should've done a lot more to him than just walk away. I would've done a lot more."

"Yeah, me too." Stanley agrees. Afterwards, he quietly adds, "bastard".

"And this is why we don't let you guys handle confrontation." John says soothingly, then strikes a horrified expression. "Imagine the bloodshed."

Maren raises an eyebrow, setting him with a look. "You don't _let_ us?" She repeats.

John suddenly looks scared. "We _shouldn't_ let you?" He amends uncertainly.

Maren huffs a disgruntled agreement, letting the starting argument fall. She changes the topic and picks up her bottle. "Anyway, I just can't believe that asshole works at the bar too. I mean is there anything he _doesn't_ do around here?" She takes a sip of her beer, not seeming to notice what she just said until after I look at her in shock. She sees me looking and after a moment her eyes widen and she pauses, glancing cautiously at Riley to see if it sunk in.

Riley, predictably, just nods in blind agreement for a second, but then I see her eyebrows furrow, and she looks at Maren quickly. "Wait, what do you mean, 'he works at the bar too'? How would you know if he worked anywhere..." She trails off, and I know by her narrowed eyes that she's in the last stages of putting it together. Her mouth drops open. "Oh my God!" Her head snaps in my direction and I press my lips together. She points at me. "You guys knew! Wha-how-when...?" Her eyes are comically wide as she looks back and forth between us. "Oh my God."

"Okay, I'm sorry. We saw him working at the cafeteria on the first day-"

"On the _first day_?!" She repeats.

"Ohhhhhhh..." Joseph draws out the word, looking satisfied. "That's what that secret conversation was about. I get it now." He taps the side of his head and I close my eyes so he doesn't see me roll them.

"He knew too?"

"No, not exactly-"

"Did you all know? Am I the only one who _didn't_ know?"

"Of course not." I sigh. Riley looks at the guys with her eyebrows raised, making them all rush to assure her that they were in the dark. "We just didn't want to tell you because we thought it might stress you out, and we didn't want to ruin your weekend." I explain.

She studies me while she mulls it over, eyes narrowed and her jaw unset. Honestly, I can probably count on one hand the amount of times she's ever gotten actually mad. It's such a rare thing that I really don't think she knows how to deal with it. So she doesn't, apparently. She sighs, crosses her arms and slumps a little in her chair.

"Well... fine." She says eventually. "That's actually very nice." I stifle a smile at the predictable response but Maren snorts. Riley rolls her eyes and takes a fry from her plate. Then she looks across the table and her eyebrows pinch in. "Where'd the guys go?" Confused, I turn to the seats to find them now empty of the three men that sat there only moment before.

"Oh, yeah. Joseph said something about going to the bathroom?" Maren says. I have no idea how she knows this considering Riley and I didn't even know they left, but I don't question it. "I think Joseph knew he was in trouble. Plus Stanley was pretty mad. John probably went to calm him down or something." She shrugs, chewing on an onion ring, which is weird since we didn't even get onion rings but whatever. For the moment I'll just assume one got mixed in with the fries.

I nod at the explanation and Riley makes a hum of understanding, bringing the fry to her mouth. But then she suddenly changes her mind and points it at me instead. "But seriously, I can decide which people I want to avoid all by myself." She goes back to the previous topic, but without the bitterness. Instead, she almost sounds apologetic. "Thank you, but I'm almost an adult, Mar. I've got this."

"Okay, fine." I concede. She smiles and puts the fry in her mouth, satisfied. I look over her shoulder. "By the way, he's coming over here right now."

Her eyes go wide. "Really?!" She suddenly starts coughing. It takes me a second to realize she choked on her fry. She looks over her shoulder and turns back just as quickly, regaining her breath. "Shoot, what do I do?"

"You're almost an adult." Maren repeats her earlier statement. She reaches over and shakes her shoulder with mock encouragement. "You've _got_ this."

"Helpful." Riley says dryly, but she's right back into panic mode again right after without hesitation. "Seriously though. Should I go talk to him? Should I run? Should I- no, screw it I'm gonna talk to him. I am a mature person, the bigger person and stuff so yeah, I'll just-" she clears her throat and begins to push herself out of the chair. "Oh wait-" she drops back down and looks at Maren. "Do I look okay?"

"Really?" Maren accuses around the food in her mouth.

Riley nods and waves a hand, standing up again. "Yeah, you're right. It's stupid, I'll just go talk to him. Doesn't matter how I look, it's cool, it's fine, everything is okie dokie-"

"You look great." I tell her.

She sighs gratefully. "Thank you."

After brushing off any non-existent dirt from her jeans, Riley pushes in her chair and starts in the direction of her ex-boyfriend, who actually has the audacity to wave at us with his free hand. I guess it's no trouble for him to recognize us now after connecting the dots. A drink is in his other hand.

Maren and I both watch on as he passes her the drink, saying something with a smirk that makes her look at the floor and shake her head. She's turned back on though so it's impossible to tell which emotion is behind it.

"What is he saying to her?" Maren says quietly, as thought they might overhear us from across the noisy room.

"How would I know?" I find myself speaking just as quietly for some reason. Even if there was a possibility we could be heard, I'm sure our concentrated looks and crossed arms would draw more attention than our voices. Neither of us care though, completely engrossed as Riley begins making those quick hand gestures she does when she's trying to explain something.

"Where's Riley?"

I actually jump at John's voice, turning to see the guys all sit back at the table. Stanley doesn't even break his concerned facial expression with a smirk at my reaction.

"She's talking to Trey." I reply, quickly looking back so I don't miss anything.

"What? Why?" Stanley questions.

"She's being a mature adult."

"Well what's he saying to her?"

John shoots him a look. "How would she know?"

"Thank you." I tell him absentmindedly. I feel the table shift with the weight of three men leaning into it in interest. Stanley hums something that sounds like an agreement, or an acknowledgment at the very least, squinting in the direction of the couple.

"Can you tell what's happening?" Joseph whispers.

"Not quite..." Stanley leans further into the table and I seriously don't think I've ever seen him so focused.

"Okay, lets see here." Joseph apparently takes the initiative to figure out what's happening. He nods. "Alright, so she's talking... he laughed... he's looking over here... he's looking over here!"

We all pretend to be heavily engrossed in our food except for Stanley and Maren, who continue looking defiantly. I wait until Joseph cautiously lifts his head to carry on with determining the nature of the conversation.

"Jesus, what's he saying to her? Do you think she needs him to back off?" Stanley puts his chin on his fist and squints at them.

"I think she's fine." Maren replies absentmindedly.

Stanley accepts the assurance with only a little bit of reluctance, which is kind of a miracle considering who it came from. But when Trey's face suddenly gets serious and he takes Riley's free hand in his, Stanley shoots out of his chair. "Alright, that's enough of that-"

"Stay here." John grabs him by the shirt and pulls him back down into his seat, which is no small task considering the size of him. Stanley struggles for a moment, but relents, crossing his arms and glaring at John and Trey in succession.

While I finally grab some food, everyone else continues watching, sometimes voicing suspicions on what the ex-couple could be talking about. By the time I get my food, Joseph is rapidly whispering about how she's coming back and for everyone to act natural. Of course, nobody cares for his advice, all of us holding our same questioning positions as she makes her way back, the drink he gave her in hand.

She lets out a sigh as she rejoins the table, noting the odd silence of everyone with a raised eyebrow. "Hi?"

Joseph groans to my left. "So...?" He demands, making a vague hand gesture that displays urgency.

"Nice job acting natural." Maren shoots him a sarcastic thumbs-up from across the table. Joseph presses his lips together and looks down sheepishly. Riley actually smirks a little at the reaction, strangely calm for someone who was freaking out so bad just a minute ago.

"Nothing bad happened." She shrugs. "He just asked me about school, told me he felt bad and apologized." She explains. Nodding, she glances at Joseph and John's approving reactions, quickly moving on when she sees Stanley's skeptically eyebrow. "Yeah, and he brought me the Pepsi I ordered. You know, before I ran away and stuff." We're all quiet as she stirs the drink with a straw, looking at ease despite the situation she was just in.

"So that's it?" Maren finally asks, suspicion and irritation in her tone.

Riley shoots her a quizzical look. "What do you mean?"

"Like, he wasn't an ass? I don't need to _kick_ his ass? Because I will, just tell me-"

"I know you would, and that's very..." Riley pats Maren's arm, " _Sweet_ , of you. But everything is fine. He actually seemed very heartfelt." She smiles and I suddenly understand why she's so content. She might have made her own peace with the breakup before, but knowing the feelings of both of them must have made her feel complete somehow. She shrugs and raises her glass. "Plus, I got a free Pepsi."

"Yeah, that's pretty good." Joseph agrees with a grin, looking genuinely happy for her.

Riley smiles at him and sips her drink, only for her to cough on it immediately afterwards, managing to swallow with a cringe. I raise an eyebrow and she clears her throat. "Yup," She shakes her head. "That's not Pepsi."

"What do you mean, it's not Pepsi?" Stanley questions, his voice threateningly low.

"I mean, it's not _all_ Pepsi." She assures quickly. At the blank looks from everyone, she adds, "There's a lot of alcohol." Everybody at the table immediately makes the universal 'ohhhhh' noise, meaning it clicked. She sighs and tips the cup again, forgetting about using the straw and cringing when she takes the second sip.

"You're going to drink it?" Maren laughs.

"Well yeah." She replies like it's obvious. "It was an apology drink. I can't not drink it. That would be rude." To emphasize, she takes another sip, her reaction less strong now that she's getting used to the taste. "But just to be clear, it's out of obligation."

"Do you not drink or something?" Stanley asks, smirking. "Got an AA meeting to go to?"

Riley rolls her eyes. "No, I'm just a light weight and I don't like how it tastes." She explains, which is completely reasonable, but Stanley just looks at her with narrowed eyes like she's hiding a secret or something. It's probably shocking to him that someone chooses not to drink simply because they don't like it.

"It's not about the taste." He reasons.

"Well, I don't like the way it makes me feel then." She gives him a look, which could be annoyed if she tried harder.

"You mean a hangover?"

"Sure." She relents, giving up.

It looks like he's going to let the conversation die until he suddenly leans forward, a curious look on his face. "So... you don't say that Trey guy could get you anymore drinks eh? Maybe-" he stops and counts the members at the table quickly, which is concerning since he should really know how many of us there are by now, "about five more?" He raises an eyebrow while Riley opens her mouth but doesn't say anything, definitely contemplating how he ever thought that scheme would go over well.

Turns out Riley doesn't have to respond, because Maren has it covered.

"You're an asshole." She accuses, picking at her food. I bite back a laugh and I see John try to hide a smile by taking a sip of his beer.

"Okay, no drinks for you then." Stanley retorts easily. Their arguing has become so frequent that he doesn't even put in the effort to be offended anymore.

Maren's uninterested look turns into a glare as he reaches over and takes a fry from her plate. "Are you serious?" She asks, with all the intensity of somebody who would actually murder a person over some fries.

He grins. "What are you gonna do about it, peg leg?"

You would swear there's nothing wrong with either of her knees by the speed she stands up. And she might not get very far before John puts an arm out to stop her, but Stanley jerks his chair back in escape anyway, and that seems to be enough for her.

. . .

"Okay so, never have I ever... gone to jail."

John cringes at his own question, knowing there's a slim chance of anybody drinking to that. Getting bored and starting a game of never have I ever was probably not Stanley's greatest idea since we seem to have started running out of questions. It's been fun though, and I've already gone through one beer, which is substantially less than everyone else. I guess you don't know how much you haven't done until you compare it with others in a drinking game.

Stanley gives John a disappointed look as he finishes his question, but John just shrugs like it was the best he can do.

"The point of the game is to get people to take a drink." Stanley reminds him.

"I know, it's just hard. I don't want to go too personal, you know?" He defends, gesturing to Maren so she can go.

"Yeah, we shouldn't go too personal." Maren agrees so sincerely that I know immediately she's going to disobey it the first chance she gets. "Never have I ever fallen off of a treadmill." She looks directly at John as she says it, and his mouth drops, offended.

Stanley bursts out laughing. "See? That's how you play, dude."

John grudgingly takes a sip of his beer while Riley discreetly does so next to me while all the focus is on him. I have a feeling she doesn't want to share the story. I don't even know what happened, all I know is that when she showed up to school one day with a bruise on her face and scrapes on her hands, she said something about a treadmill and told us not to ask. We haven't.

Riley's next, and she's on her second beer after swearing before she wouldn't have anything else to drink. She's already drunk so she wasn't lying about being a lightweight at all. Although, who knows the amount of alcohol that was in that first drink. "Um... oh, my turn? Okay..." She thinks for a moment. "Never have I ever had a cat."

Someone (probably Stanley) makes a noise of approval when John, Joseph and I all take a sip of our drinks. I look at Joseph. "You have a cat?"

" _You_ have a cat?" He throws back. I hear Stanley make and 'ohhhh' sound, followed by Maren saying something about a 'lover's quarrel'.

"I used to when I was younger." I explain.

He nods. "Okay, well yeah, I have one. His name is Rocky and he stays in the basement all the time." He states casually while I try not to think of how terrible it is that I've been to his house and even in his basement multiple times and never knew he had a cat. "You wouldn't want to meet him." He continues. "He's actually the devil. Like, from the depths of hell."

"He is." John agrees, nodding and looking distant, probably recalling a traumatic memory with it. Stanley nods too.

"Well, that's... nice." I shake my head, actually concerned about how evil a cat could be that would warrant this many people to agree with the harsh description. I decide not to think about it and continue. "Never have I ever broken a bone."

Immediately, all the guys say a shocked, "You haven't?" all at once. Maren and Riley don't say anything, but the former smirks at me, having argued with me before about how weird it was.

"No I haven't." I affirm. "I've sprained stuff, but never broken anything." When I think about it, it probably is a miracle I haven't considering how many falls I've taken on ice. Maybe I've just been lucky.

"If you ever break anything, I'll sign your cast." Joseph says, smiling at me.

"Thanks, babe." I reply flatly. I roll my eyes but take his outstretched hand anyway, unable to hold in a smile when his grin widens. Riley makes a noise and loudly whispers something about how "they're so cute" to Maren, who I know couldn't care less. "Your turn." I say to Joseph.

"Oh right." He sits up straighter and puts on his thinking look; lips pressed together, one eyebrow up and one eyebrow down. It's completely ridiculous and I kind of hate that I like it a lot. "Never have I ever broken more than _one_ bone."

"Creative." John mutters as he takes a sip. Stanley and Riley join him, and John looks surprised when Maren doesn't tip her bottle. Despite how outgoing she is, she kind of has always had a thing where she tends to do physical things better than everyone else naturally. It also means she tends to remain damage free when doing things that most people get injured doing.

"Hey, Maren. Remember that time you dared me to jump off Marina's shed and then I broke my leg because there was a rock under the snow?" Riley says. Maren slowly smirks, still finding it funny, and nods. "Well I'm still bitter." Riley finishes, although it's an obvious lie. I'm not sure she's even capable of holding a grudge.

"It wasn't _all_ my fault. You had your own mind." Maren dismisses.

"We were _eight_." Riley presses. "I was an... impressionable youth." I can tell the word is hard for her to say, whether it's because she's drunk or just because it's a big word, I'll never know.

"And a dumb one too." Maren says, her grin only widening. "Who Just jumps off a roof without knowing what's at the bottom?"

"Who's dares an eight year old to jump off a roof, you sicko?"

I start laughing, joining the guys who were already chuckling at the argument and how stupid the situation was. It wasn't funny at the time. I remember running into the house to tell mom, and even though Maren obviously doesn't feel bad now, she did then. We also weren't in Riley's Mom's good books for a while after that, especially Maren after Riley failed to lie to her about what happened.

"How'd you even get up there?" Joseph asks.

"There was a lot of snow that year." I reply. His eyebrows shoot up.

"So you were there too?"

I chuckle. "It was my shed. It would be weird if I wasn't there."

"Oh, right." He says slowly, grinning as it all comes together.

"Okay," Stanley speaks up. "Never have I ever... had a dog." He continues the game before the issue can be discussed more,

John is the only one that takes a sip out of all of us. When he sees it, he looks appalled. "Really? Nobody else ever had a dog?"

"Well, I stayed with my aunt for a while once and she had one. Does that count?" Riley asks.

"Yes." Stanley replies, gesturing towards her with his beer for some reason, although he's not drunk yet, he just does strange things when he sober anyway. Riley seems to understand though and takes a sip of her beer. "Back to you, Johnny." Stanley announces. He eyes him seriously. "And make it a good one."

John rolls his eyes but obviously struggles to come up with something. After a moment, he finally sighs, sounding like he's given up. "Never have I ever smoked pot."

Stanley makes a loud groaning sound. "You're so boring." He complains. Then he lifts his bottle and takes a sip anyway. Riley joins him and beside me, Joseph does too.

"You did?" Maren asks him, surprised. "Never would have thought that." She shrugs, not making a big deal over it.

"Stanley pressured me." He defends quickly like she was about to sentence him life on prison, even pointing an accusing finger at his friend.

Stanley looks offended. "I did not. I asked if you wanted a joint and you said, and I quote, 'YOLO' and took it."

Joseph looks sheepish and I laugh at him. "YOLO?"

"I was drunk." He groans. When John starts laughing too he crosses his arms, defensive. "I think the real concern here is that _Riley_ did it." He says, clearly attempting to pass everyone's attention away from him.

"Actually I'm not even surprised." Stanley admits.

John nods. "Me neither." He looks at her and adds, "Not saying you come off as a pothead or anything, it's just-"

"No, I get where you're coming from, don't worry." Riley waves a dismissive hand at him, smiling in reassurance.

Joseph looks downhearted that his distraction didn't work and he slumps in his chair, gesturing to Maren. "Please go."

She actually takes pity on him and taps her bottle as she thinks. All of her questions have been very personal so far, so I get a little nervous every time it's her turn. There's a lot of stuff she could drag up out of the past. "Okay. Never have I ever been below five foot five at the age of seventeen."

Riley, her chosen victim, just shakes her head as the rest of us chuckle, waiting for her to take a sip. She doesn't, although she does look a bit smug when she sees Maren's questioning look. "I'm five foot six, Maren."

I swear all of our eyebrows shoot up at the exact same time, except John, who's eyebrows are furrowed so much he has a crease in the middle of them. There's silence for a moment until Stanley finally decides to voice everyone's doubts. "Sorry, Pierce, But there's no way you're five six."

"I am." Riley insists. "I have a measuring thing on the wall at my house. I've been this height since grade nine."

"Well your measure is a few inches off." Maren says. "I'm five six and you're shorter than me."

"You're like... five seven." Riley says, apparently choosing to ignore the fact that she's obviously more than one inch shorter than Maren.

Suddenly Stanley pushes out his chair, stands up, and walks away from the table without a word. We all share confused glances as he disappears into the crowd. We forget about the game and a conversation starts up about where he could be gone. A few minutes later he returns, holding something in his hand. He stands by Riley's chair and pulls it out easily with her still on it.

"Stand up." He orders.

"Is that a measuring tape?" She asks.

"With centimetres to inch conversions." He confirms proudly. "Stand up." He raises his eyebrows at her. Sighing, she complies and gets to her feet, patiently standing next to him as he pulls the tape out.

"Where'd you even get that?" John laughs.

Stanley leans down and tells her to step on the end of it. "Oh you know..." He pulls it up so he's holding it over her head, squinting at the thin lines on the tape. "I just asked around." He examines the tape for another moment before pulling the end from under her feet and letting it coil up with a loud click. "You're exactly five feet and three inches tall."

Her mouth drops open and we all laugh at her, with the exception of Stanley, who just smirks in his usual smug way. "No, that has to be wrong. There's no way!" She exclaims.

"It's a measuring tape, it's not wrong." Stanley laughs, leaving her to return to his seat across the table. She still just stands and watches him go with wide, disbelieving eyes.

"Oh my God." She says finally. "All these years I just thought everyone was freakishly tall."

"Nope, you're just very, very small." Maren says. Riley doesn't even look like she hears her, shaking her head.

"My entire life is a lie."

"Oh stop being so dramatic and sit down." Maren kicks her chair as a reminder. Riley glances down at the seat before slowly moving around it and lowering herself into it. She leans her elbows on the table and shakes her head.

"So, you have to drink now." Stanley reminds her.

She wrinkles her nose at him, finally accepting it. "Where'd you even find that thing anyway? It's probably broken." Taking a sip, she shakes her head until she pulls the bottle away with a frown and turns it upside down, nothing coming out. She makes a big show of shaking it at Stanley until he chuckles and reaches into the cooler to get her new one. But then he frowns as he pulls it out, closely examining the contents of the cooler before closing the lid.

"That's the last one." He announces, passing the bottle over the Riley. "I'll have to run back and get more. I really don't want to take the whole cooler though." Suddenly, it seems an idea occurs to him and he snaps his fingers. "Does anybody have a jacket with a lot of pockets?"

"Mine does, I'll go with you." Riley says, standing up again after auctioning off her beer to John. As she's putting her arms through the sleeves of her jacket, she suddenly freezes and looks at the ground like she's remembering something. "Oh my God, I told the DMV I was five foot six when I got my license." She says with wide eyes.

Joseph starts laughing immediately while John tries to look supportive but fails. Maren just rolls her eyes at Riley's obvious worry. "Yes, because if you ever get stopped, the first thing to police are going to do is pull out a measuring tape to see if you lied about your height."

Riley can't even stop a laugh at the sarcastic statement, probably noticing now just how little it actually matters. "Still, you should probably get that changed." John advises. It's met with a chorus of agreements and Riley's face falls before She trudges off with Stanley, muttering about long lines and the DMV.

 **Stanley**

I have no idea when I got this drunk. Which is funny, because usually I can tell when I'm at least starting to _feel_ the alcohol in my system, but tonight it came as a shock. I was feeling fine (maybe a _little_ tipsy) when we were all sitting down. But then I got out of my chair and found myself stumbling away from it and then laughing, and then I kind of knew.

And then somehow, I found myself on the dance floor, jumping to the beat of Thunderstruck by AC/DC, and I think Joseph may have dragged Marina out here too, but she's not drunk, and neither is he. John is though. I can tell because he's out here too, right beside me, shouting out the lyrics in celebration of the conclusion of the karaoke that thankfully ended a few songs ago. I find myself vaguely thinking that I like drunk John way better than normal John. Drunk John is the version that's fun, instead of the one that looks in my cup and grimaces, telling me something like "you're gonna feel that in the morning" or "Maybe that should be you're last". I never listen to him, even though I always feel it in the morning, and okay, maybe I shouldn't drink so much. But he doesn't tell me that now, so I pretend the issues don't exist.

An issue that does exist however is exhaustion. I'm not even sure how long I've been out here, and I'm kind of dizzy in the best way possible, but also in the way where I might just drop to the ground any minute without warning. I wait until the song is over to make my way back to the table, John asking why I'm leaving, but following anyway. Joseph and Marina also come back, Joseph grinning and Marina shaking her head fondly at him. I can only imagine the dance moves she had to put up with from him.

"Dude, I like you so much better when you're drunk." I tell John honestly. Both of us are breathing hard, I pull out a random chair and drop into it without realizing it's Marina's until she moves to a different one.

John grins but doesn't reply, tipping up his beer instead. He actually misses his mouth and he looks down, frowning for a second before reorienting himself and trying again. I snort and notice Riley openly smirk at it too. Usually she would try not to find amusement at other people's expense, but it doesn't seem like she cares right now.

I rest my arm on the back of her chair, leaning toward her with a permanent sloppy grin. "Hey, Pierce." I say it lowly, and probably with a bit of a slur judging by how her smile tugs up a little more at the corner of her mouth.

"Worthington." She replies. Usually the retort would hold a giggle, but unlike most people, she laughs less when she's drunk. I have a secret theory that she's already too happy anyway, so the alcohol just can't compare.

I wrinkle my nose. "Nope. Doesn't work as well."

"Well, you should probably start making it work. Last names tend to stick around." Although her eyes are teasing, they don't hold their usual light and energy, which is weird. I don't think about it too much because a new song starts playing and she sighs contently. "I love this song." She breaths, turning behind her as though to check for a band. Instead there's just speakers.

It's weird how quickly I forget all of my exhaustion from a moment ago, standing up and offering a hand down to Riley. "I guess we'll have to dance." I smirk, especially when her grin widens and she doesn't hesitate to reach up and take my hand, letting me pull her up.

I forget about asking anyone else at the table to dance and soon it's just us on the dance floor. Well, us and a few other couples in the mood for a slow dance. I realize that's what this song is, a slow song. So I put my hands on her waist as her's loop around my neck, both of us falling into an easy rhythm. And maybe it's so easy just because it's her, and she loves the song so maybe I do too.

"You're quite the dancer." She says eventually, with that smile that's somewhere between teasing and serious. I'm glad the song is quiet so we don't have to scream to hear each other. It makes me realize that I really like hearing her voice.

"One of my many talents." I reply.

"Oh yeah?" The tone is challenging but her expression is anything but that. I have to admire for a moment how relaxed she looks. While being cheerful is practically a staple of her personality, I don't know if I've ever actually seen her look completely content or... peaceful I guess. She's always moving in some way; a bouncing knee or a tapping pencil. It's strange to see her completely fine with the calm movement. "And how many other talents do you have?" She asks.

"A couple." I reply nonchalantly, but smirking at her anyway. "I think you'd be surprised."

"I somehow doubt that I would." A smile is melted into her words, making them sound more suggestive than they should, even though the sentence was completely innocent.

For once, I don't carry on the suggestive tone. It feels wrong when she doesn't know she's doing it. Instead I take one of her hands from my neck and hold it up so she can spin under it. She does and when I pull her back to me she's grinning the same lopsided way she always does. She comes a little closer than before, but that might be an accident. I put my hand back on her waist while she puts hers on my shoulder, our other ones loosely joined on the other side as we slowly rock back at forth.

"You're not a bad dancer yourself." I tease.

She laughs a little, but it doesn't sound like it usually does. Her normal laugh is kind of like the chain of giggles kids make, but this one is smooth and short. "All I did was spin."

"But you did it gracefully."

"That would be a first."

"There's a first time for everything." I remind her. Her smile gets a little wider.

"I guess there is." She doesn't say anything else, but I can hear her humming the song playing under her breath. It's definitely something by Ed Sheran, which means it's a love song and has a guitar in it, but I wouldn't be able to tell which one it is. I don't know if it's because she's humming it, but I find myself thinking it's nice.

Although, despite the peace, something has been bothering me for a while. I look over her head at direction of the bar and clear my throat. "So... about, uh, Travis-"

"Trey." She corrects.

"Yeah, that asshole." I confirm. She makes a chiding noise but I don't care. "What exactly happened?"

"Oh." She says as though she had no idea that's where the conversation was going. "Is it heart-to-heart time? Are we that drunk now?" Smiling wryly, she shrugs. "We were dating for a couple months, we had sex at a party and then when it went around the school it got turned into a threesome in the bathroom or something." She explains casually, with none of the hesitation that was present in her earlier explanation. "I used to think he spread the rumour."

"He didn't?" I ask.

"No." She shakes her head and a smile comes onto her face that looks kind of dazed, but only a little. When she looks up and sees I want a larger explanation, she continues. "When I talked to him just then he said that he told one person and _they_ spread it around."

I blink in confusion. "Which is somehow better?"

She looks incredulous. "Of course it's better. At least he didn't do it on purpose. Anyway, he left town after that because his Mom got a job out here." She twists her lips to the side, like she's regretting something. "The only thing that bothers me is that he didn't even tell me. Like, how hard is it to send a text?" She shakes her head and I find myself nodding along.

"I know the feeling."

Her eyebrows furrow and she looks up at me, actually tilting her head a little. I never really meant to say it, but it just came out because of the moment and yeah, probably because of the alcohol too. Considering she told me what happened to her, I swallow my pride and answer her unsaid question.

"I had a girlfriend, we dated for six months, she went on business trips with her Dad a lot to... somewhere in the States I think. Anyway, turns out she was dating a guy while she was down there, and a week after I found out, her Dad got a permanent job and they moved."

Riley face portrays shock, and then she looks away, muttering something under her breath that I don't think was friendly. "How did you find out?" She asks.

"When her Dad got the job she told me."

Riley's lips slant to the side, her eyes sympathetic, and I know now that it's not fake. "That sucks." She rubs her hand on my arm in a comforting way. "You don't deserve that."

"Well you didn't deserve it either." I shake my head and glare at the bar, where I know the guy who no doubt broke her heart is working without a care. Sighing, I add a little quieter, "He's the biggest idiot in the world."

Riley smiles a bit, crooked and small. "I guess it really is heart-to-heart time." She chuckles, and I suddenly find anger welling up inside me. After what he did, she just forgave him in a heartbeat, and he still thinks a simple apology drink should be enough?

Then she shakes her head, her grin turning bright like it usually is instead of the other version I've been seeing all night. "Seriously though? What are the chances of that happening to _both_ of us?"

I feel my anger dissipate as she grins, and I can't help but find the humour in it too. "Really though!" I agree immediately. I've never actually thought about it until now, but she makes a good point.

"I mean, it just seems super unlikely."

"That's true."

"Honestly, _nobody_ does that."

"Because it's stupid."

"So stupid."

We're both nodding along to the conversation in seriousness, until we catch each other's eyes and she tries to keep it up, but predictably breaks out in a laugh after only a second.

I smirk. "We should tell Tony-"

"-Trey."

"-how stupid it is." I say. I'm surprised when she nods determinedly, standing up on her toes in an attempt to look over my shoulder at the bar.

"That was stupid!" She calls out.

"Yeah!" I join in, angrily glaring over my shoulder in the general direction of him. "Really stupid, dude!" I lift my hand in a rude gesture, Riley hurriedly pulling it down with a surprised yelp. None of it was actually loud enough for him to have a chance of hearing it but it makes me feel better. "Well, I hope that made you feel better." I tell her.

"Oh yeah. A hundred percent." She agrees with too much enthusiasm to be remotely serious. "We should shout stuff more often."

"Absolutely."

She smiles crookedly, and then without any warning, she takes her hand from mine and puts her arms around me, her head falling to rest on my chest. Yeah, I know, she's a touchy drunk and stuff, but I'm still surprised at the very least. But I don't hesitate to put my arms around her either. It's like a reflex.

"You're a good guy, Stanley." She murmurs, rocking back and forth slightly, like she still hasn't stopped dancing. She lets out a soft sigh, so soft that I'm sure I would never know it happened if I didn't feel her shoulders drop with it. "You just don't know it yet, that's all." My heart squeezes in a weird way when she says it. I quickly realize it's guilt, although I'm not sure why. Maybe I'll figure it out when I'm sober.

"Okay." Is all I say.

She tilts her head so she's looking up at me, her chin resting where the side of her head just was. Her eyes are warm and insistent and uncharacteristically serious. "Stay here. Please."

I know in a heartbeat that it's impossible to say no to her right now, even if I wanted to. But I have a feeling she might want some reassurance. So chuckling, I take one hand from her and unconsciously tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. It's a French braid tonight, courtesy of Marina I think. I forgot to tell her it looks nice. "I didn't plan on going anywhere."

She smiles, close-mouthed and wide. "I know." She says, scrunching up her nose before turning her head to the side again. Her arms loosen as she relaxes, but she keeps them around my waist anyway.

"How much have you had to drink?" I ask her. I'm not complaining about the situation, just curious about how much the alcohol is a factor.

"Um... not very much?"

Alright, so she's still a terrible liar when she's drunk. "Okay, let's see then." I try to think of a question that would prove her sobriety. "What's five times five?" I finally ask.

"Twenty five." She says, not lifting her head. "And that's too easy. _You_ would know that."

"Ha, joke's on you, I didn't know that actually." I say smugly.

She's silent for a moment. "Really?"

"Anyway, moving on." I clear my throat and she laughs. I take one of her hands from my back and hold it to the side so it looks more like we're dancing and not just hugging in the middle of everyone. "Thirteen times seventeen." I challenge.

It takes her just a moment longer then usual. "Two twenty one."

Even though I have no way to prove if she's right, I assume she is and move on. "Okay, square root of eighty one." Before she can even take a breath I realize my mistake. "Never mind, no! Too easy. Let me think... square root of forty five."

"Exact or approximate value."

The question startles me. "What?"

I feel her chuckle against me more than I hear the sound. "You're supposed to know this." She chides gently. Even her drunk self is in tutor mode.

"Whatever." I reply after quickly searching my memory for the terms and coming up with nothing. "Both then."

"Three root five for exact, and around six point seven for the approximation." She says. I really shouldn't be surprised. "You know, even if I was pretty drunk, which I'm not," which she clearly is, "it doesn't mean my mind would just stop working." She continues.

"Yeah, but you're still drunk." I point out. "The only thing this proved is that even when you've been drinking you're still a nerd." She just shrugs, knowing there's no room for argument

Eventually she lifts her head from my chest, backing up so there's a little more space between us, but still not a lot. And then we stay like that for a minute, rocking back and strangely peaceful. If she weren't drunk, she probably would have gotten antsy by now or would be holding more of a conversation, but this is nice too.

"What kind of dog did you aunt have?" I ask after a while. Silence with her, while comfortable, is a little unusual so I feel the need to start a conversation.

"A German Shepard. Her name is Lucy and she's the best."

"What makes her the best?" I challenge.

She scoffs lightly, like she can't even believe someone is asking that question. "Well, for starters, when you throw a stick she gets it and drops it at your feet." She says. "And she's really cute."

"Okay, I'm sold." I nod in affirmation and she gives me a smug smile. "I'll get you a dog." I state, completely and stupidly serious.

She doesn't seem to think it's so stupid, her eyes lighting up for a second before it falls away as she obviously remembers something. "My sister is allergic." She looks around cautiously for a moment, like she's checking to see if she's anywhere in hearing range before she leans in. "But I have a theory."

"A theory?" I repeat with wide eyes. Usually she'd catch on to the exaggerated act, but it seems to fool her adorably drunk mind tonight.

"Uh huh." Nodding, her voice drops down to a whisper and I tilt my head to hear her. "I think she just doesn't like them." I gasp and she raises her eyebrows affirmingly.

"What a liar." I chide. Riley makes a sound of agreement. "I mean, I'm not a fan either but at least I don't lie about it."

She suddenly takes a step back, her mouth dropping open. "You don't like dogs?"

I notice all of her movement stilled, as though frozen by her shock. I'm still holding onto her though, so instead of denying it, I smirk and tug her hand so she comes back. Well, _stumbles_ back more like it. She grips my shoulder to steady herself and pulls me down a bit as she straightens. And then there's a moment where she looks up and her face is really close to mine and usually my breath would catch in my throat, but I just smirk, thanking the buzz in my head. She just giggles, a small, quiet sound that isn't nervous or embarrassed, but not like her normal self either. Her fingers idly play with the fabric of my shirt as she puts more distance between us, her arms looping around my neck.

"My Dad used to say I shouldn't talk to guys who don't like dogs." She says teasingly, any and all of her offended ruse gone with her laugh. Her smirk falls a little when she finishes the sentence, but I'm suddenly a little too panicked to ask why.

"Well, it's not that I don't like them." I defend clumsily. It's stupid because I know she's joking, but yet, there's still doubt. "I mean, if I had one I'm sure I'd-"

"Don't worry, Stan. I'll still talk to you." She assures, whispering like it's a secret. A lazy grin is on her face again when my eyebrows shoot up as she uses my nickname. "I already like you. And I'll get you to like dogs." She nods with all the confidence a drunk girl making promises should have, and I can't help but think she _should_ confident. I'd probably agree with her on anything right now, and she might know it.

"I like you too." I say.

She hums. "I know."

"Someone's cocky."

"I think that'd be you."

"Maybe." I agree, finding nothing else to say.

She starts humming the song idly again, obviously familiar with it, and leans into me again, her head on my chest. I worry for a moment that she can hear my heartbeat, how fast it's going, but then she starts singing and I'm pretty sure it stops completely.

Her voice, usually threaded with small breaks and laughs, comes out completely smooth. It's not loud at all, so quiet actually that in a different world she may have been singing just to me. But it's an Ed Sheran song and that thought was way too cheesy, so it's not exactly plausible. Still, she sounds so much better than the voice coming from the speakers, and it's not even because I'm biased.

"You said you don't sing." I accuse.

"I don't." She replies, but I know that's just her immediate response and after a second she'll get that it doesn't make a lot of sense considering she was literally just singing. I wait a couple beats and she predictably speaks again. "Okay, but it's not really my thing."

I scoff. "It obviously _is_ your thing. Have you heard yourself? You're good." My question is met with silence other than than the sound of her humming starting up again. "So..." I start again, a smirk coming across my face. "You don't sing, but you sang for me...?"

I feel her laugh against me more than I hear it. "What? I didn't sing for you, weirdo."

"Who then?"

It takes her a moment to answer. "For myself." I can picture her wrinkling her nose at me and it makes me chuckle. "My _drunk_ self." She looks up at me and grins lopsidedly as though to prove it. As though I actually need proof.

"You should have done karaoke." I look up at the stage and am reminded by the dim lights that it's no longer in use.

She shrugs, also looking over her shoulder where my eyes have settled. "Not really my thing." She repeats.

I give a grunt of disagreement, which she chuckles at. I hold up my hand for another spin and she does, turning around under my arm with more grace than I would ever expect from her sober. When she grins as she faces me again, wrapping her arms around my neck, I kind of just look for longer than I should. Eventually she taps the back of my head gently, tilting her head to the side.

"You're quiet." She accuses, light and smiley.

"Just thinking." I reply, already knowing she'll put on the most innocent expression and ask me what's on my mind with so much sincerity I'll be forced to answer.

I feel her fingers playing with the neck of my shirt as she does exactly what I pictured. "About what?"

"Doing something stupid."

It must be the alcohol that causes a slow smirk to spread across her lips as she looks up at me. And it also must be the alcohol that lets my mind stay calm instead of turning to static when she leans closer.

Then she waggles her eyebrows. "Something stupid, huh?" There's a definite spark of mischief on her eyes, and it makes my grin match hers. "Well, what are you waiting for?"

I shake my head, my entire mind asking me the same thing. "Good question." I reply, and through the peaceful buzz in my brain, I start leaning closer.

 **Marina**

"All I'm saying is that it's suspicious how they even keep this bar open. Seriously. It's way too easy to sneak booze in here." Maren rants grumpily, needing something to complain about other than her leg. I watch in amusement as she crosses her arms and huffs, way too mad about the small issue to be normal. "I mean, we literally brought a bright red cooler in here and nobody even glanced. A cooler!"

"Yes, I heard you the first time actually." I say. She arches an eyebrow at me, uncaring for my retort, and I shrug with a smirk, thinking of ways to wind her up more, mostly because I know she's bored. Plus, Maren isn't dangerous unless she's angry about actual issues. "I don't know, maybe they just trust people." I argue even though I agree with her completely.

The expression she shoots me is so flat I have to stifle a laugh. "What else would be in a large, red cooler besides alcohol?"

I shrug. "Ice?"

She groans. "Mar, that isn't the point." She leans back in her chair, shaking her head and staring into the distance.

"Why are you so invested in this?" I ask after a second, laughing when she shakes her head again, this time in disappointment.

Not seeming to find the answer, she finally sighs. "I have no clue." She reaches a hand up to rub her face. "I think I'm just so bored, I mean, there's nothing to do."

I roll my eyes even though I do feel pity for her. I know all she can think about is how many hockey practices she'll miss if her leg doesn't get better soon, but she hates pity so I don't let it show, gesturing out to the dance floor. "Just watch Joseph and John dance. I promise, you'll be entertained."

She smirks and we both locate the guys joined in a dance, laughing about something and swaying back and forth with such intensity that the couples around them keep sending cautious glances at them to make sure they're not in imenant danger.

"I didn't think Joseph was drunk." Maren says.

I tilt my head to the side and purse my lips in concern. "He isn't."

Maren laughs and I shake my head, amused at him. "He's so weird." She says, then adding, "In a good way I guess."

"Yeah, I guess." I agree. I chuckle as John waves animatedly over Joseph's shoulder, and I wave back with a little more modesty.

Maren sighs, her eyes scanning the rest of the dance floor. "Now, where are Stanley and Riley? Because if she trips up I want to see-" the words seem to die in her throat as what appears to be a stroke overtakes her. I turn to see her mouth drop open, eyes wide.

She looks at me in what I assume to be horror and points to the dance floor. Even though I'm legitimately concerned for her, I take a look. It only takes me a moment to find the pair, linked together close to the edge of the space and... making out.

Stanley and Riley. Making out.

Oh my God. I look at Maren, my expression probably the same as hers. "Oh my God!" I voice my exact thoughts and she nods distantly.

When they pull apart I fear suddenly that they heard my outburst, but they don't even glance this way, continuing dancing as though everything is normal.

"Um..." Maren is staring at them too, and even she isn't able to hide her obvious shock. She points at them and her eyes dart back and forth between them and I. "That doesn't count. They're drunk, it can't count, it just... _can't_. It doesn't and it can't." She sounds almost desperate. I realize it must be her worst nightmare; her best friend and worst enemy dating.

"Yeah..." I say slowly, unsure.

She huffs in displeasure. "It can't count." She states again firmly. "Right?"

Her sentence sounded so confident that it takes me a second to realize she's actually waiting for me to agree with her. "Right, yeah." I rush out. I don't sound convincing in the least, but she nods anyway, satisfied.

"We'd better talk to her." Maren says after another moment. She waves a hand in the general direction of Riley and Stanley. "About this. I don't want it getting out of hand." I raise an eyebrow at her and she sighs. "Or if it does get out of hand I'd like to be warned."

I know that by 'out of hand' she just means them dating, but term she used was surprisingly non-hostile considering the situation.

"We might want to wait until she's sober though." I suggest, frowning at the graceful way she rocks back and forth and the clumsier way he does. I assume alcohol has a factor in both.

"Yeah." Maren agrees distantly, although I already know the moment Riley sits back down she's going to be victim to the start of an interrogation. Crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes, Maren kind of resembles a disapproving mother, but I'd have to be stupid to voice that opinion.

"At least he's better than Trey." I try.

She doesn't actually need to answer, because the withering glare she sends me is clear enough.

Eventually Riley returns to the table as a more upbeat song comes on, Stanley staying behind and disappearing into the crowd. She sighs as she sits down and immediately picks up her beer. Knowing Maren may not be as nice about the discussion, I start it off gently.

"So, you guys have fun out there?" I ask.

She makes an incomprehensible sound while nodding with the bottle still to her lips. I take it as an agreement, but don't say anything more since she hurriedly stops drinking so she can elaborate. "Yeah, it was fun. It was so fun." She nods. "We did math."

I can't help but laugh. "Did you now?" She makes another hum of agreement as she takes another sip. A longer one this time since her other one got cut short.

"So..." Maren is very much not laughing. "Did you do anything else out there? Besides math?"

Riley shrugs, not putting much thought into it. "I don't know. We talked and... stuff."

Maren narrows her eyes, studying her, but she doesn't appear to be trying to hiding anything, or that might just be the way her words are slurring. She either doesn't think of it as an important enough detail to discuss, or has already forgotten about it. Maren just raises her eyebrows in acknowledgment after concluding the same thing I did, leaving the conversation for a time when we can actually talk to her sensibly.

Riley looks at Maren and frowns. "Someone's grumpy."

Maren rolls her eyes. "I'm not."

"You are though." She squints her eyes at her while Maren simply stares back under the scrutiny. "Is it because John is dancing with Joseph?" She asks suddenly.

Maren's eyes widen, not expecting either of us to bring up the 'John thing' until she's ready. And usually, Riley would never tease her about it before it became a comfortable topic. But we've never seen Riley drunk until tonight, and as far as I can tell, her filter is a little non-existent.

"What? Riley, no-"

"Because he'd definitely rather be dancing with you." She interrupts.

At first I think she's rambling innocently, but then she raises an eyebrow as Maren's mouth drifts open a little, and I realize she's deliberately doing this. It makes me want to laugh because if there was one thing Maren was unprepared for tonight, it would be for _Riley_ to purposely make someone uncomfortable. But I'm pretty sure Maren might kill me if I laughed, so I try to keep a straight face.

"I mean you're way prettier than Joseph. By like twenty percent at least." The teasing look grows, the corner of her mouth starting to pull into a smirk. "I don't think you need to worry."

Beside me, Maren is looking at her in absolute shock. Her face is even a bit red as she opens and closes her mouth a couple times, searching for a denial. "I'm not-"

"Look Maren. We all know what's going to happen." She cuts her off. Leaning forward, she rests her elbows on the table and cups her hands around her beer. She sighs like it's a burden to have to explain it. "You and John are going to finally stop being idiots and get together and have children. It's just how it's gonna go."

Riley shrugs, like the matter is out of her hands, but it's clearly an act by the way her smile grows. I don't even realize I'm laughing until Maren looks at me, completely blindsided by this new behaviour. Riley just continues to look at her intently, while she turns a darker shade of red at the latest comment. The situation is so rare that I might actually find some pride within myself for drunk Riley. After all, Maren without a retort is unheard of.

"Oh my God." She finally breaths, looking at me. "We are never getting her drunk again. She's-" she gestures at her and Riley raises her eyebrows as though waiting patiently for an answer. "Look at her, she's... evil."

Riley grins shamelessly and I laugh again, mostly at Maren's -still- wide eyes. "Okay, okay, I'm serious now." Riley's still smiling but it's a million times more gentle now and what I would be expecting of sober Riley, although her words are slurring together so I know she can't be recovered yet. She stretches her arm out on the table with her palm up, opening and closing her fingers until Maren reluctantly takes her hand. "I'm gonna tell you something now, okay?"

"No thanks, I'm good actually." Maren says, eyes darting around. Her face is still red, and I think some part of Riley feels bad, so she squeezes her hand.

"I'm gonna tell you anyway." She whisper-shouts, nodding thoughtfully.

"Shit." Maren mutters under her breath. I chuckle but Riley becomes more serious.

"Look, Maren. You're hot." She says with an amount of solemnness that actually makes Maren snort, probably expecting something better worded. "No. You're hot, and you're a catch. Okay?" She pauses as Maren rolls her eyes, Riley only continuing after she's paying attention again. "Please, trust me when I say that there is not a universe that exists where John Smith would not want to date you."

Maren's mouth drops opens again, but she can't seem to find anything to say. It was actually surprisingly sweet for a drunk reassurance. After a moment she breaths out a laugh. "Jesus R. What are you on?"

"Nothing, it's just-" Riley lets out a heavy sigh, taking her hand back and now looking back and forth between us. "You guys are just really great and I feel like you don't know it and you should. You know?" She seems genuinely downhearted, but I know it's mostly because of the alcohol so it's really more funny than concerning.

"Riley." I say. She focuses on me instead of trying to look between the two of us, although her eyes look a tad too clouded to fully be paying attention to anything. "If we agree with you, will you stop talking?" She nods immediately. "Okay then, we're great and we know it, yay!" I put on my most convincing smile and Maren does a half-hearted version of jazz hands to prove our enthusiasm. Through some miracle, Riley buys it.

She leans back in her chair with a satisfied grin, taking another sip of her beer. Then she seems to remember something and makes a noise, almost spilling her drink as she puts it back down to talk. She points at both of us in turn.

"And by the way, you guys are both like, _really_ good looking, okay?" She says. I don't know if it's just me, but her words sound like they're slurring together more now than they did when she first sat down. "Like, if I were a lesbian, I would _totally_ -"

"And that's enough for you." Maren interrupts. "Mar, take her drink."

"Yup." I quickly reach across the table and take the bottle from her loose grip with little to no resistance.

In fact, she doesn't even put up a fight, just watching as I slide it over to Maren with a small nod. "Yeah. Good call." She admits. Someone calls her name and we all turn to see Stanley, gesturing for her to come out while him and Joseph are swaying together with they're arms around each other's shoulders. Joseph calls for me too but I decline.

When she finally relents after a couple more tries from the guys, John slips out of their grasp and makes his way back over, fanning himself. "Whew, that's a work out." He sighs, dropping down into his seat and pointing at the beer in front of Maren. "You gonna drink that?"

Maren refuses to look at him, probably still thinking about the conversation we had. "It's all yours."

"Sweet." He takes a long sip and sighs dramatically as he finishes, obviously refreshed. "So, what are you guys talking about?"

Maren and I look at each other, and John furrows his eyebrows, even noticing the uncomfortableness while drunk. Maren clears her throat. "Yeah, I'm gonna go to the washroom." She says, nodding. She gets up and leaves as quick as she can manage and John looks at me in confusion.

"What was that about?" He asks. I note that his words are slurring slightly, so if I'm lucky he won't look too deep into anything.

"Yeah, I don't know." I lie with a shrug, searching for a topic of conversation that doesn't involve Maren and what must look like her mysterious disappearance. When he starts eyeing me suspiciously over his beer after a moment, I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. "So uh, did you see Riley and Stanley making out?"

John coughs up his drink.

* * *

 **Alrighty, that's it for now. Sorry again for the wait and please let me know what you think of it in the reviews :)**


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